The Passing of Summer

Its that time of year again. I wrote this song at the end of the first summer conference at Brunstad. Nearly everyone had gone home and I was down at the beach area tidying up. It was so strange without the sound of children's laughter and all the summer activity that was so customary. All that remained were the echoes and still-warm memories of these things. A solitary Swallow swooped down over the grass as if he too felt the loss and the inevitable end of summer....

What are we going to do
Now that Summer's nearly through?
The beach lies empty once more
The disowned bucket on the shore

Only the Swallow knows
As he swoops in low
What's gone on here below

The long forgotten shoe
That floats with the rise and fall
Of water on the sand
Doesn't understand
Where everybody's gone to

Only the Swallow knows
As he swoops in low
What's gone on here below

All the children back at school again
Staring out the window
Summer memories framed in autumn skies
Fading light of summer reflected in their eyes

Only the Swallow knows
As he swoops in low
What's gone on here below