Well you wake up in the morning, Hear the ding dong ring.
You go marchin’ to the table, you see the same damn thing.
Well it’s on one table, knife and fork and pan.
The last quarter moon of the dying year,
Pendant behind a naked cottonwood tree
On a frosty, dawning morning
With the back of her silver head
Turned to the waking sun.
Quiet... THE LAST QUARTER MOON OF THE DYING YEAR by Jonathan Henderson Brooks.
