The Old Swimming Hole
I imagine my receipts
Lifting from the drawer in front of me
Digits and decimals
Become marks on butterfly wings
The books I want to read
Seem to multiply each week
The pages become soil
Words bend like cattail and milkweed
I have places to go
And a list of things to do
But I'd rather watch the redtail
And share this place with you
The tempo is slow
Down at the old swimming hole
Where pondweed tickles and cushions the floor
Dragonflies and monarchs and swallows gently soar
There's an orchestra of frogs someday I'd like to join
And a moon that cues kingfishers and snipes
The tempo is slow
Down at the old swimming hole
Where a mirror on wall
Turns to a ripple round my feet
Distorted reflections
Fold below into a dark mystery
Where rustling on the edge
End the stirrings in my head
And the shimmer 'cross the water
Reveals a golden thread
I have places to go
And debt to pay
But I'd rather stay here
See what the clouds have to say
The tempo is slow
Down at the old swimming hole
Where pondweed tickles and cushions the floor
Dragonflies and monarchs and swallows gently soar
There's an orchestra of frogs someday I'd like to join
And a moon that cues kingfishers and snipes
The tempo is slow
Down at the old swimming hole
Madeline Fendrick - vocals
Brian Peck - guitar, vocals