The Alder Trees

I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low

The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before

My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves

Making tiny piles, oh, and sifting through the weeds

Wind blows the tiny green, tiny green

Wind blows the tiny green, helicopter seeds

Wind blows the tiny green, tiny green

Wind blows the tiny green, helicopter seeds

Oh, wandering in days unfolding

With hats fashioned of mud and snake skin

Oh, wandering in days unfolding

With hats fashioned of mud and snake skin

Of mud and snake skin

As I think about the ladies who weren't allowed to sing

Sewing all their pretty rows of thread instead of singing

And what about the black braided sisters of Mariee?

We sat upon their grinding rock as children used to be

Beneath the knotted pine, knotted pine

Beneath the knotted pine at the garden's edge

Beneath the knotted pine, knotted pine

Beneath the knotted pine at the garden's edge

Oh, laughing, little girls clapping

Ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

Oh, laughing, little girls clapping

And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

Our hair to baskets

I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low

The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before

My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves

Making tiny piles, oh, and sifting through the weeds

Making tiny piles, oh, and sifting through the weeds