Verse 1
I came across an orchard
with bloodstains on the ground
fallen seed of bruised and bloody red
sunlight glinting there
upon the gall worms and the drones
feasting on the remnants of the windfall

Verse 2
I searched me for some greening shade – a willow parasol
a sheltered sun-dark dome of morning’s drop
each careless step a memoir, a cider memory
intoxicating revels of the windfall

Chorus
And how they fade
And how they wither
How they leather up
And pass into the earth
Offering life through death, season by season
The cruelest culling harvest of the windfall

Verse 3
In the gardens of a house brought to life after the war
I was minded of the souls among the dew
Fields of far-off summer mornings held them in their arms
The ruddy rising suns of the windfall

Verse 4
And the ghosts drift idly high over the orchard now
They hover over villages and towns
Each one a soul, each one a son,
A snapshot heart-held close, as the teardrops trickle down

Chorus
And how they fade
And how they wither
Their cries to home
Were soundless in the dawn
And when the broken ones returned
No lessons had been learned
There is nothing to be learned from the windfall

There is nothing to be learned from the windfall