VAGABONDAGE 
(Drifting) 
Bruce Cockburn


drifting 
the dance of the landscape 
and in the clouds 
the cutout 
of a whirlwind with shipwrecks 
drifting 

always on our way 
again we're on our way 
somebody plays the drum 
somebody plays the flute 
like water leaping from a waterfall 
we're on our way 

and soon 
in the cradle 
another little gypsy 
who will play the piano 
for the hobos 
in the bars on the moon 

somersault 
suddenly it's raining 
light all over the place 
and then all at once 
we're three improbable clowns 
doing somersaults 

we skim along 
in the coach 
of a train that's perpetually expanding 
like the universe: 
high in the air 
a compass-card 
points toward new shores.