So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbor’s burden within reason
And your labors will be born when all is done
And there a wreath of trillium and ivy
Laid upon the body of a boy
Lazy will the loam come from its hiding
And return this quiet searcher to the soil
— from “Don’t Carry It All,” the lead track of the Decemberists’ The King is Dead.
If you follow this blog, then … then you know why, now, this.