Hanging in there, part ii

A song that has comforted me for many years is "Turning Toward the Morning" by Gordon Bok.  Now the words of the song seem more appropriate than ever before.

Turning Toward the Morning

(Gordon Bok)

When the deer has bedded down
And the bear has gone to ground,
And the northern goose has wandered off
To warmer bay and sound,
It's so easy in the cold to feel
The darkness of the year
And the heart is growing lonely
For the morning

Oh, my Joanie, don't you know
That the stars are swinging slow,
And the seas are rolling easy
As they did so long ago?
If I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
That the world is always turning
Toward the morning.

Now October's growing thin
And November's coming home;
You'll be thinking of the season
And the sad things that you've seen,
And you hear that old wind walking,
Hear him singing high and thin,
You could swear he's out there singing
Of your sorrow.

When the darkness falls around you
And the Northwind come to blow,
And you hear him call you name out
As he walks the brittle snow:
That old wind don't mean you trouble,
He don't care or even know,
He's just walking down the darkness
Toward the morning.

It's a pity we don't know
What the little flowers know.
They can't face the cold November
They can't take the wind and snow:
They put their glories all behind them,
Bow their heads and let it go,
But you know they'll be there shining
In the morning.

Now, my Joanie, don't you know
That the days are rolling slow,
And the winter's walking easy,
As he did so long ago?
And, if that wind would come and ask you,
"Why's my Joanie weeping so?"
Won't you tell him that you're weeping
For the morning?

Oh, my Joanie, don't you know
That the stars are swinging slow,
And the seas are rolling easy
As they did so long ago?
If I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
That the world is always turning
Toward the morning.
----------------------------------------------------------------

Recorded by Bok, Trickett and Muir on "Turning Toward the
Morning", FSI-56, copyright 1975.

"One of the things that provoked this song was a letter last
November from a friend who had had a very difficult year and was
looking for the courage to keep on plowing into it. Those times,
you lift your eyes unto the hills, as they say, but the hills of
Northern New England in November can be about as much comfort as
a cold crowbar. You have to look ahead a bit, then, and realize
that all the hills and trees and flowers will still be there come
Spring, usually more permanent than your troubles. And if your
courage occasionally fails, that's okay, too: nobody expects you
to be as strong (or as old) as the land." - Gordon Bok

I am waiting for the morning.

Joanie