The Summer Moon - Rogue Valley

So it goes

In perfect rows

The cherries and

The children grow

The days are full

The sun is at its

Highest

What was before so dearly held

Is no more compelled

No thoughts no senses

To tear us apart

Once I have lived

A thousand lives

Eternity

Shall wield its knives

And in the peace

That waits for me

Is you