There has always been a strange wave of inspiration that hides in cool autumn mornings, and it comes two-fold in the hills of California.
The commitment to folk music–writing it and playing it and maybe listening to it–is difficult to maintain throughout the year. Especially throughout the spring and summer. Yet now all the youth and all the romance that is inherent in folk music sings with the freewheelin’ winds of the fall, and the cold comes in and all you want to do is embrace your loved ones or a hot cup. A hot cup in the cold night.
But these are the kinds of things that cannot be expressed in any manner of prose, and are better suited for rhythm.
The sun fades away and the seas recede
Laughter subsides but the dreams remain
All along the coming winter row
It sings in calm
It sings so low
It sings songs of warmth
As that cool wind blows.