It's the way it is, it's the way it has always been Spring thaw, brings spring mud, ripples, birds It's the way it is, the way it's always been, Ever since: who knows when, when I was a kid.

Strange, my blood runs wild in me today That I should dream of faces so far away I'm sitting dimly far from Minnesota's horizon And hear voices, echoes, rivers, from afar.

The clouds are clear on high, endless blue The spring sounds awaken memories, renewed Winter stars are gone with winter snows Birds begin to nest in trees and meadows.

Spring winds will bring some spring storms Enough to tease Minnesota's willow trees With many ripples on its 10,000-lakes Around its millions of Pines and Evergreens.

It's the way it is, the way it has always been Spring thaw, brings spring mud, ripples, birds It's the way it is, the way it's always been, Ever since: who knows when, when I was a kid.

I'm in Peru, as spring opens up in my home city of St. Paul, Minn

esota; I know its every breath and light, when its character becomes boyish; when mother-nature bends her knees. My friends tell me the winter snows are almost gone now, they were heavy just a month ago, when I was there. I can feel the doting weather gain, romping winds, emerald green woods blossoming with life, ripe for horsing around, trekking its pathways. The fish jumping up and down, breast first diving deep into the clear lakes. I must give it a tragic kiss, for I will miss her spring, but I remember so many of them, it is like Minnesota is present, alive within my dreams, it's the way it has always been. [#1311 4/11/06]

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