From the recording In Walked Winterlark
By the way . . . did I mention the meadowlark in the field? It just stood warbling, dry grass under feet. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a bird so disinclined to go with the approach of soft steps. What was in my heart, it didn’t know. I sank in the grass, breathed in green, sunny ground, then a flick, a lift, a glide away. By the way . . . did I mention that my heart is free, cut from the string, aloft and lingering, flying? Sometimes the breeze slips through your hands, and buckles your knees if you're facing just the right way. It’s kinda hard to show what is inside, and when do you know to just stand there and say: I see nothing but blue sky? Thunder softened to a sigh, when I found you. By the way . . . did I mention the meadowlark in the field?