The Circle

Saturday afternoon the sunshine pours like wine through your window
But I know golden June can turn an empty grey against your window
And I feel like I'm on the outside of a circle-
If I walk by the trees I'll catch the falling leaves if the wind blows
But I know all this means is whiling on the hours watching side-shows
Will I turn my coat to the rain I don't know
But I'm going somewhere I can warm my bones
Fare you well I'll carry me away
and sing for those I know upon their birthdays.