When the light is hard to see
In the lighttime, the wave is broken
in the seashine. That wave is broken
on the shoreline, looking out
when the light is hard to see
when the light is hardly seen.
At the snowline, the air is hidden
by the fjordpine. That air is hidden
by the clothmine, where skies are dyed
when the light is hard to see
when the light is hardly seen.
In our workbrine, the loom is bare
in our booksigns, the loom is bare
in my dreamshrine, the net is empty
when the light is hard to see
when the light is hardly seen.
At the incline, the snow is shaking
In my whitewine, the world is shaking
In the coalmine, the Earth is shaken
When the light is hard to see
When the light is hardly seen.
From the divine, the ice comes down
On my confine, the ice came down
Came to enshrine, at the house of us
When the light is hard to see
Now the light is hardly seen.
Then we intertwine and fill our cups
Then we realign and fill my cup
By the drumtime, and warming sup
The light was hardly seen
Where the light has rarely been
Now the light will reconvene
On the moss and fjordic scene
Above roads through velvet green
Summer’s here:
the light is seen.