Lord, Ye Gave Me A Rare Woman,

I'll Scream!" "likely. If Not Before, Certainly During. I Expect They'll Hear Ye At The Next Farm; You've Got Good Lungs.

Sometimes,' He Whispered At Last, 'sometimes, I Dream I Am Singing, And I Wake From It With My Throat Aching.' He Couldn't See Her Face, Or The Tears That Prickled At The Corners Of Her Eyes. 'what Do You Sing?' She Whispered Back. She Heard The Shush Of The Linen Pillow As He Shook His Head. 'no Song I've Ever Heard, Or Know,' He Said Softly. 'but I Know I'm Singing It For You.

There Were Moments, Of Course. Those Small Spaces In Time, Too Soon Gone, When Everything Seems To Stand Still, And Existence Is Balanced On A Perfect Point, Like The Moment Of Change Between The Dark And The Light, And When Both And Neither Surround You.

It Was A Beautiful Bright Autumn Day, With Air Like Cider And A Sky So Blue You Could Drown In It.

Your Face Is My Heart Sassenach, And The Love Of You Is My Soul