Cruel Winds from Goldfinch by David Leonard Briggs

Clear, sickle moon over treetops
In the clear-before-dawn sky.
I drive the escarpment road alone.
On the plateau, there's a farmhouse
Where a dead man waits for me,
With his gumboots and a rifle
That I'll plant between his knees.
When I leave, no-one there will grieve.

Once, in my childhood, on the front lawn
As a sprinkler split the sun,
I was happy and I think that
I might also have been good.
But the world's hard when there's no one
There to catch you when you fall
And the secrets that you're keeping
Cost a thousand pounds a call.
Years go by; you forget how to cry.

And what would the boy
Have to say to the man
He became for his sins?
And would he care if he knew
Just how far you can fall
When you fly near the sun?
Maybe yes. Maybe no.
Seasons turn. Cruel winds blow.

Some say the body keeps a tally,
And I guess the mind does too -
Somewhere hidden, in the soul,
If you believe that ballyhoo.
Is it too late?
Am I far gone?
Is the way back a blocked road?
Maybe this time, redemption
Can relieve my heavy load.
Guilt! for me,
It's the wind that shakes the tree.

And what would the boy have to say ...


Vox / Hofner HA0JC07 acoustic rhythm guitar / Hofner violin bass guitar / Kastner studio piano / ride cymbal

• Folk
• Folk Blues
• Somerset
• country blues
• poet
• singer-songwriter
• United Kingdom