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White Willow
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Hawks Circle The Mountain
High up above us, where all the hawks
Circle the mountain, riding the wind
Floating on updrafts and searching for prey
I think I saw them today
I climbed up higher than I've ever been
Walked through the rubble, the smog and decay
Up where the sky is not auburn but blue
I'd like to go there with you
Miles stretch below us, lost in the haze
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Everything distant, everything strange
Birds in formations that I've never seen
Spelling a language of dreams
Trees low and twisted, flattened by storms
Stretch across granite to reach for the edge
I feel an impulse to spring and take flight
Everything seems to be right
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