Birds sit on the branches
As silence reigns over the ranches.
You walk in the fields,
And the silence disappears.
You grin, and call me over,
Saying, “Come here, my lover!”
Throwing your hands in the air,
Tossing back your hair,
You seem to be enjoying,
You seem to be destroying,
The peace in this place,
Taking all the space,
With your laughter,
As you chase after
The saddened landscape
That seems to torment you,
And haunt you.
