So the fields are stubble, the garden's done Where the scary scarecrow stands Sees her holding up horizons with her hands She's so tired of reading daddy's lips That essay on a frown Watch her memories of human voices drown Let horsey bray break between the thunder boom Make grasses' swish meet the cricket's ring Let every sound consecrate our whispering Words that Betta never heard So the back lanes tie the city down A mess of dirty string Winter dies the same way every spring As the sky tries on its uniform Of turned off TV grey And the ways we watched her watch us walk away Let every rain clatter down at groaning streets Make footsteps tick, talk to echoed walls Let every sound consecrate our whispering The words that Betta never heard Let every wind howl and creak the creaking doors To rooms that too much has happened in Let every sound consecrate our whispering The words that Betta never heard