Autumn is here and I’m lying in my room
With nobody around me but the starlings in my roof
I think of a drink—just the one and then I’m through
I suppose not even I believe that’s true
Where the cilia lines and traps
Winter is here and the SAD envelopes town
Through looming vaults and glass facades that Portland wraps around
A stroll through the City—the streets where I belong
But it’s lonely in between the madding throng
Where the cilia lines and traps
Hope I find a church to pray
A lovely way to spend the afternoon