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And if in time
The gathering moss should envelope our home
Oh stillborn seed and its husk you now hold
I would still walk the miles to gather water

And if during the night
You are stirred by an entanglement of shadow and vine
And our vessels left empty, broken, and blithe
I would not weep

For you will stay the tired eyed girl in a hospital gown
Snow faced in the shadow of a church tower
In an old port town
And though the night is dark and disparate
It howls harsh notes of may

Oh great loom of loam be so still
I would gnaw at your heathers until
I am found by your hands
Or by a colony of soft and patient clay

And there is no telling
But for a house by a harbor
Our flashlights dim across the pale water
Burnt reeds in the current
We spoke of frail things
There is no telling beyond here

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Ava Marie Poultney, Vermont

5 piece Indie from central//western Vermont. Collections of songs constructed from the memorable remnants of reoccurring dreams, and early childhood.

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