Let me remind you of the hushed banter of the insects, the song of the sunset they hum.
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with aspens,
I recall, winter be on us, by the early dusk of a working day.
Over my soul you murmur your selfish benediction,
While I gaze over fields that rest from the harvest,
As those who depart the auburn world gaze into eyes of their lover.
Lest they forget, or lose them in the growing nights.