WORDS TO THE MUSIC
When the green lets go Late August leans on the fence and sighs The fields still gold, but the gold’s gone dry Cicadas wind down to a thinner thread And the sun clocks out a little ahead The light turns over, slow and plain Nothing to keep and nothing to claim Summer unhooks from the edge of the day Fall takes the keys and is on its way Winter’s a rumor the north wind knows And the green, by degrees, lets go The maples catch fire without a match The air gets a bite, then a second scratch Apples hit barrels, the geese draw a line And the dark comes earlier, right on time The light turns over, slow and plain Nothing to keep and nothing to claim Summer unhooks from the edge of the day Fall takes the keys and is on its way Winter’s a rumor the north wind knows And the green, by degrees, lets go Frost isn’t here, but it’s already named In the first hard star and the woodpile’s claim The ground holds its breath, the river goes steel And the year starts closing like a wheel The light turns over, year after year Three seasons stacked in a single gear Summer, then fall, then the white that follows Time doesn’t borrow, and time never owes Just the green, by degrees, letting go
