Ray Lamontagne

It's the Widow now that owns that angry plow,
The spartan Mule and The Crippled Cow
The fallow field that will yield no more,
As the fox lay sleeping beneath her kitchen floor
The stream can't contain such the withering rain,
And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away
The clouds crack and growl
Like some great cat on the prowl
Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again
The days grow short
As the nights grow long
The kettle sings its tortured song
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now
The winter birds have come back again,
Here the sprightly Chickadee
Gone now is the Willow Wren
In passing greet each other as if old, old friends
And to the voiceless trees
It is their own they will lend