Part of a series or song cycle:
Seconds slipping into sand,
The gale heaves through empty trees.
The seat is still half occupied,
How many days has the sun been blind?
Little time to understand,
Perhaps no more new leaves,
The seat’s white-spored with fungus,
Grey beard’s near to painful knees.
The late linnet shaves her song,
Then gives best to the darkness.
The silver moon’s eclipsed by snow.
Clouds, steamy, roll on and go.
Soon no trees, no gale, no time nor seat.
No linnet days, no clouds nor sun.
No breath, no voice, nor blood in veins,
No start, no go, no care, nor fear.
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Previously performed at:
(As part of a song cycle/series:)
- 23 Oct 2021: 101. Jonathan Dove: The Passing of the Year