Reaping Song

It was just that golden time of the year

I knew I heard your voice

You requested me to follow

That way we all must go

I recalled the words you've written

The last time you held the quill

I wanted the winds to take me

But something held my will

I can feel you roam

When the seeds are grown

I hear you cry along

To the reaping song

You had left before the winter

With the last of fallen leaves

Our universe had splintered

I could not blur the grief

But when the birds fly south

And apples fall from trees

You're granting me a sprout

Of times that used to be

Within this time of year

I can feel you near

I hear you cry along

To the reaping song

It was the rising of the fall

And again, I heard your call

Your presence would increase

With the last October breeze

You invited me your way

This time I could not stay

And in that golden time of the year

I walked with you, my dear

Now the maples sigh

And the birches cry

When I sing along

To the reaping song