The sound of a flute gives me a ride

into the barn, by a hay bale I hide.

I am that child who felt music glide

in the middle of summer on the new moon.

 

I follow the swallow who flew under the door

up to the rafters where the fiddles do soar

and the dancers and the shouters rise with a roar.

In the middle of summer on the new moon.

 

Chorus:

Lifting you up, mending your soul.

You are part of the blessed whole.

and hear this promise that more will unfold

if you follow the music.

 

I am the oak tree who listened to me

As I pumped on a swing singing so free

I sang back the heartbeat of that very tall tree

In the middle of summer on the new moon.

 

I am the blackbird in fields of corn.

I am the willow who held me at morn,

and taught me the wonder that I was born.

In the middle of summer on the new moon.

 

Chorus:

Lifting you up, mending your soul...

 

I am the dewdrop who reached out at dawn

And pulled me outside when nighttime was gone.

I rolled in the grass on the dandelion lawn

In the middle of summer on the new moon.

 

I am the moon who I could not see.

And where she would go was my mystery

disappearing, arising in good company

In the middle of summer, especially in summer

Begin again on the new moon.