in the silver morning hollow trembling and getting old smelling burnt oil of heaven about ten years too big to hold she don t get up when i come into the room she don t run through the fields anymore built a fire in the kitchen made her bed by a stove took a walk to the graveyard but she didn t want to go she don t worry all them murders of crows even though they was always out of reach she don t get up when i come into the room she don t run through the fields anymore