From any angle you'd make a painting
where there is a lake in the woods
and when the drought comes and the lake is dry
stroll slow over to breathe the dust
nothing is likely to disturb your soul
where your lake lies low in the woods
beneath a gathering in the treetops
recite the old verse through the hush

From my position the sun is hidden
reclined by the lake in the woods
and when the night comes and the moon is high
my spirit will roam as it must
aimed silently through the mists visiting
like a flown owl of the woods
why then I find you again and again
reciting my verse through the hush