Lullaby to Myself

Wheat child, honey child
where are you when the wind runs wild
and free across the sky?

Child of wheat, child of honey
you’ll not want for food or money
in the place where swallows fly

Child of honey, child of wheat
let your skin absorb the heat
sip cicada song and sighs

Honey child, wheat child
you are the wind that’s running wild
and free across the sky.

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Lullaby to Myself

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