Verse 1

You follow the creek where the alder roots lean,

I carry our cups in a canvas-worn sling.

A thrush lifts its song from the fern-covered stone,

And the path keeps its quiet for us alone.

Chorus

Stay where the old trees shelter the ground,

Where rain fills the hollows without a sound.

You take the high path, I’ll walk by the stream,

We’ll leave every leaf just where it has been.

Verse 2

The pine needles soften the steps that we make,

A brown moth rests still on the brim of your hat.

We find a clear pool with the sky held below,

Then turn when the trail says it’s time we should go.

Chorus

Stay where the old trees shelter the ground,