FEBRUARY MORNING DRIVE

The trees that stood in the woods out back
Lie by the roadway cut and stacked
And the logging trucks tear the two lane down
And it's a double line all the way to town
These are the things that greet my eyes
On the February morning drive
I wave to Troy as he flashes by
Sun rising red in the eastern sky
I look to my left at the flashing yield
See a murder of crows in a stubble field
These are the things that greet my eyes
On the February morning drive
The chimney smoke is lying low
Shrouds the town in the valley below
The morning dawning, sharp and fair
No breath of wind in the winter air
These are the things that greet my eyes
On the February morning drive
Winter's white is lying still
Over the fields and the shadowed hills
And far below the spring sleeps sound
In the hardened heart of the frozen ground
These are the things that greet my eyes
On the February morning drive


Words and Music:
©David Francey (Ayer's Cliff, Quebec, February 2000)

 

 
 

CLOSE WINDOW