"I get these notes on butterflies and lilac sprays..."

I don't recall ever hearing this one before just now. Here are some of the words that hit me:

"Remember the days when you used to sit

and make up your tunes for love?

And now, they toss around your latest golden egg.

I guess I seem ungrateful

with my teeth sunk in the hand that brings me things

I really can't give up just yet.

Now I sit up here; the critic!

I heard it in the wind last night,

it sounded like applause

Chilly now, end of summer -

no more shiny hot nights...

It was just the arbutus rustling

and the bumping of the logs

and the moon swept down black water

like an empty spotlight."