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Alela Diane
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The Alder Trees
I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low
The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before
My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves
Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds
Wind blows the tiny green
Tiny green
Wind blows the tiny green
Helicopter seeds
Wind blows the tiny green
Tiny green
Wind blows the tiny green
Helicopter seeds
Oh wandering in days unfolding with
hats fashioned of mud and snakeskin
Oh wandering in days unfolding with
hats fashioned of mud and snakeskin
Of mud and snake-skin
As I think about the ladies who weren't allowed to sing
Sewing all their pretty rows of thread instead of singing
And what about the black braided sisters of Mariee
We sat upon their grinding rock as children used to be
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Beneath the knotted pine
Knotted pine
Beneath the knotted pine
At the garden's edge
Beneath the knotted pine
Knotted pine
Beneath the knotted pine
At the garden's edge
Oh laughing little girls clapping
Ghosts weaving our hair to baskets
And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets
Oh laughing little girls clapping
And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets
Our hair to baskets
I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low
The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before
My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves
Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds
Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds
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