“Through the Hills"
by Nate Marshall

In the morning
there’s an awning
the sun has painted gold.
At the bus stop 
there’s a rain drop,
and crows pick at a dusty hard roll.

Rusty bridges and faded wills,
still our song rings through the hills-
still our song rings through the hills.   

Now the sun’s high 
in a blue sky,
kids are laughing in the streets.
There’s a taxi, 
and a hobo 
dancing to the sound of his feet.

My four sighing fingers on the windowsill,
still our song rings through the hills-
still our song rings through the hills.   

Now it’s nightfall
at the shopping mall,
bugs dodge in and out of streetlight.
Then the darkness
is an ocean;
my eyes fix on the ceiling all night.
O and you’re the water when my dreams begin to spill;
still our song rings through the hills-
still our song rings through the hills.