When the black sky turns a brilliant blue
Reflecting on old glass in my windows
Set before the golden sunrise hues
Hear the rising notes of barnyard swallows
When the fresh smell of wet spring dew
Sweetens in the morning meadows
See how all the flowers bloom anew
Around my home in a mountain hollow
Know my deepest thoughts drift to you
And to our weekend dance that follows
After all the hard week in fields ensues
That starts where the hedgerow’s narrow
It’s such a prize living a hill farm virtue
Pulling stones from soil so shallow
But there’s none finer a place with a view
Smoothing good earth with my trusty harrow