Life’s Mistress – Bruce CockburnBy She is passing in a warm breezeBars of light that cross the floorOne smoke-gray, curled, tiny featherSkips asideBy her middle hang the keysMade to open any doorEven the one that lets in the cold windFrom outsideShe lives in a house of colourGuarded by cats three in numberAnd one great dog of gentle mannerIn among the treesSilenceCarriesNo apprehension hereIn the warm sunBy the window sillI can just sit stillAnd watch her go by…Queen of field and forest pathwayUnderstands the speech of stonesShe weaves peace upon her loomLife’s mistress www.pillowlyrics.com419786497975 88k 20