one day in june

no matter what the word we have the sign
all things converge on a small mark of grace
at island's end we find the clinging vine

each of us thinks our secret heart divine
but sparks of anger show upon each face
no matter what the word we have the sign

stars planets comets every one align
to send a message out into deep space
at island's end we find the clinging vine

mangroves and seagrapes then inland the pine
and withes to function as a sort of lace
no matter what the word we have the sign

you drink your beer i have my coolish wine
each dropping out of the harried rat-race
at island's end we find the clinging vine

a simple moment yet i'll make it shine
all of these things in turn i shall misplace
no matter what the word we have the sign
at island's end we find the clinging vine