TURNING TOWARD THE MORNING

(Gordon Bok)



When the deer has bedded down

And the bear has gone to ground,

And the northern goose has wandered off

To warmer bay and sound,

It's so easy in the cold to feel

The darkness of the year

And the heart is growing lonely

For the morning



Oh, my Joanie, don't you know

That the stars are swinging slow,

And the seas are rolling easy

As they did so long ago?

If I had a thing to give you,

I would tell you one more time

That the world is always turning

Toward the morning.

Now October's growing thin

And November's coming home;

You'll be thinking of the season

And the sad things that you've seen,

And you hear that old wind walking,

Hear him singing high and thin,

You could swear he's out there singing

Of your sorrow.



When the darkness falls around you

And the Northwind come to blow,

And you hear him call you name out

As he walks the brittle snow:

That old wind don't mean you trouble,

He don't care or even know,

He's just walking down the darkness

Toward the morning.



It's a pity we don't know

What the little flowers know.

They can't face the cold November

They can't take the wind and snow:

They put their glories all behind them,

Bow their heads and let it go,

But you know they'll be there shining

In the morning.



Now, my Joanie, don't you know

That the days are rolling slow,

And the winter's walking easy,

As he did so long ago?

And, if that wind would come and ask you,

"Why's my Joanie weeping so?"

Wont you tell him that you're weeping

For the morning?

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Recorded by Bok, Trickett and Muir on "Turning Toward the

Morning", FSI-56, copyright 1975.



"One of the things that provoked this song was a letter last

November from a friend who had had a very difficult year and was

looking for the courage to keep on plowing into it. Those times,

you lift your eyes unto the hills, as they say, but the hills of

Northern New England in November can be about as much comfort as

a cold crowbar. You have to look ahead a bit, then, and realize

that all the hills and trees and flowers will still be there come

Spring, usually more permanent than your troubles. And if your

courage occasionally fails, that's okay, too: nobody expects you

to be as strong (or as old) as the land." - Gordon Bok

see also TURNOVR

@seasonal

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play.exe TURNMORN

DC

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