Mostly I Just Stroll Along

 "I'll sing you this October song

Oh, there is no song before it.

The words and tune are none of my own,

for my joys and sorrows bore it...

The fallen leaves that jewel the ground,

They know the art of dying.

And leave with joy their glad gold hearts,

In the scarlet shadows lying..."

This day may have been made just for riding Bonelli's hills, beside that neon green stream, broad sand beaches, over bridges in shaded dells, across dry grass slopes, beneath an ancient sun and youthful monsoon clouds carrying thunder in their pockets which they pull out and scatter across desert miles and roll against the mountains peaks.

"...I met a man whose name was Time,

And he said, "I must be going,"

But just how long ago that was,

I have no way of knowing...

Sometimes I want to murder time,

Sometimes when my heart's aching,

But mostly I just stroll along

The path that he is taking."

(Williamson)