The screen door to the farmer's porch   To the back porch, to the backlands   It's never left closed         A new air pushed a full wind   That brought worlds on through   That only he could know         As the last of November passed   With his new life, with his new wife   She said she was feeling a little cold         The ghost of a clown just danced in and   Did a few tricks and danced out again   Warming a farmer's soul         Summer was all there was   We were working, breathing heat   Terror rising out of control         Through that door came a breeze   Wrapped on through our heads and around our spines   Cooling off the burning floor         The morning's breaking woke us long enough   We were sure we could see   The whole of some older birds   Riding to the ground on the falling leaves   Riding to the ground on some falling leaves   One last time   One last time   To feed