Me and the Moon and the Sycamore Tree
I’ll tell you a tale of a sweet memory
from a time in my life I felt lonely.
The building I lived in was not much to see,
nor my room near the roof, up on floor number three.
I was between things and did not know who to be.
But outside my window, a sycamore tree
would rustle her branches and comfort me,
and the sight of her leaves brought still more beauty.
I almost felt she was smiling at me.
Looking out, I’d imagine myself to be
at home in a cabin I’d built in my tree.
Through her leaves I could see the whole world’s beauty.
We became good friends, me and my tree.
Then one night, the Moon came to visit me!
She perched on a branch, and I went and got tea.
Now there were three friends: Moon, tree and me.
We talked long and deep as we sipped our tea—
got to know one another most intimately.
There were no secrets among we three.
I felt quite at ease in their company.
Then I learned that I had to move.
Neither friend said a word to disapprove,
though we all knew we’d miss our special groove,
which I now know is what we call Love.
Today I live in a tower in the sky,
My friend the Moon? She still comes by.
I asked her if she’d remember me
to our other companion, the sycamore tree.
One night, though, the moon said, “There is no more tree!
Just a big stump where she used to be!”
Now that was something I did not foresee,
and I cried. Why would anyone chop down our tree?
Time has passed. The Moon and I? Both happy.
We got to spend time with our sycamore tree!
Her green on the Earth we no longer see,
but her roots in our hearts will always be.
The Trance of Beauty
Out on the balcony
as I strum and sing,
pink dusk does magic with
leaves red and yellow.
As the litany of songs,
all by Leonard Cohen,
passes my lips
my voice becomes
transparent like the sky.
I am but a veil
of story, a bridge.
When the medley ends,
I long to remain as only
that trance of Beauty.
