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Come out creatures of the night, The Garden King is in the clearing. The fireflies provide the light, Lighting up and disappearing. And the lotuses beckon, Singing to the sage... Join us, Join us. The mushrooms hide under the thistle, And slowly it begins to drizzle, And the leaves, they haven't a care, Nesting for the robin, sheltering the hare, And the caterpillar whispers To the pea pods on a vine... Sleep, Sleep. Wake up droplets on the web, The Garden King is in the clearing. Darkness lifts its sleepy head And leans in close 'cause it's hard of hearing. And a clover awakes from a foxes footprint; The raindrops all cover the parsley and mint. The autotrophs bow and the moon makes them glisten; The forest is quiet as everyone listens To hear the stories of the Garden King, A giant oak of many rings... He hears the whispers of the dead beneath his roots... Listen, Listen. |
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