OME ride the wooded hills with me For siring is in the air. New life is straining at the soil, The trees no more are bare, And there are kin of yours and mine Among the cabins there.
They lire so near to us, yet so far. More than a mountain range Divides us, yet our blood is one. We are akin, yet strange. They are the children of the fast, And we, of time and change.
W e seek romance on distant shores, W e scatter bounty far, W e deer for signs of brother life Upon a baffling star, While need, romance and brotherhood Here at our threshold are.
So travel the dim road with meNew thoughts are stirring there. They hate a need that we may fill, A treasure we may share. Their world is waking like the earthGod's siring is in the air.
-Ameba Josephine Bum