If I Added To Their Pride Of

I Cried Over Beautiful Things, Knowing No Beautiful Thing Lasts.

Let The Gentle Bush Dig Its Root Deep And Spread Upward To Split The Boulder.

The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet. It Sits Looking Over The Harbor And City On Silent Haunches And Then Moves On.

The Moon Is A Friend For The Lonesome To Talk To.

It Was Here We Turned The Coffee Cups Upside Down. And Your Eyes And The Moon Swept The Valley.