As I Wind Down The Pines

As I wind down the pines

It's the lines on your face

Playing on your face

Without thinking so much

As abandoning thought

I went through open country

Over water, meadows, streams

Lakes and wires and roosts in reeds

To a nest in the hole of this dead tree

To play without stopping or pause

Not for silence, not for applause

Not without thinking

And thinking is abandoning thought

As I wind down the pines

It's the lines on your face

Playing on your face