What is Old in Us
Go to it now, you forgetful thing,
leave behind the foggy wood.
Risen witches are nothing to us,
let them lie and do their work.
It calls beyond the train window.
It seems too late.
Spy with your little eye Madam,
call up the Kraken.
You are sleeping Brother John.
Stand up, spirit.
Act your age.
- Jim Gislason