On hallowed ground
i am walking
remembering the time
when the sun we did follow
cross the heavens and
through the morning mist
robins sing in rapture
away from the knaves
who would capture their wings
and ring in the fall
once more let me walk beside you through the forest
where twigs and leaves give us comfort
into the west where our dreams now do call
troubadours sing of our journey
scribes report the irony of our lives
sampling the wine from the jug that swings
from your supple shoulder
tasting the fruit that hangs heavy from the vine
forging ahead through the willows
the clouds look like pillows
soon we can rest our weary heads
lie in the meadow soft and ever-green
as we start to break our bread

the apache kid