Martha she listens for the ticking of my footsteps,
patiently
She sifts the hairy air that's warm and woodswept,
pleasantly
She does as she pleases, she listens for me
Martha she calls to me from a feather in the meadow, fly to me
She does as she pleases, she waits there for me
She does as she pleases, her heels rise for me
My love she talks to waking windows as she murmurs to her feet,
She weeps, tired and starts unspoken, but when the gate swings,
There she'll be