Out past the old bridge
of crumbling stone,
That’s where I’d run
Past the places I’ve known
So I could climb that old tree where
I’d sit all alone
Look to the blue sky
Doorway to dream
Gathering clouds
Scattered light in the leaves
Is it the scent of that wind that keeps
Calling me home?

Now, when branches are bare
I recall each breath as a prayer
Ordinary, extraordinary
It’s the beauty I remember
Quiet, sitting there still
Familiar grace
I will drink in my fill
Choir of birdsong is calling me
Sunlit and darkening
Twilight is beckoning
Calling me home
Twilight is beckoning
Calling me home.