The PicnicWhere words, music and worlds collide

The Picnic The dark cool shady forest kept It's secret over the centuries The dark black belt it rests above Has been safely assured life until now The later rock is here to move all And a courting couple tread a mile higher The place will be witness. They carry a picnic basket full A gentle hand lifts the freshly sealed In eagerness to share all the package The rest looks down wondering The carpet is spread with pine cones There is no air nor time today The nearby lake is listening. At the right moment the feast begins The wine and food flow like close streams A sorry landscape chatters and remarks Of the young girl's beauty and gentleness The wind blows the wind to stir the branches The timeless romances have been seen over the ages. Clouds unwillingly climb into the afternoon sky An evening is waiting yet again Not wanting to go home, the couple talk Of the forest, of the lake, of the sounds This moment is their own or so is felt The coal deep beneath them is sleeping. Smell the fresh wood my dear We'll never be content unless Our lives are spent close to this Close to the warming stirring country air Or the night will come too soon my dear And our shepherd may take us away. The forest had heard the talk many times And said a gentle good-bye or the deep-rooted trees The coal will see the next play and the next When a different couple walk its roof It is then that all the parts of the earth Watch and talk together of the moving things. 20th April 1982