Almanac - The Acorn

There’s a season in your eyes

And a fever on your breath

You’re anchored to the tide

And the rhythm in your chest

I read the rings and count the city lights

You sing a static sonnet on the dial

You could talk a walk, through the mines

Or you could spend all your days

Just waiting for the night

The stones that skip, the dust that turns to fire

I see it all reflected in your eyes