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Turning Toward the Morning 
Turning Toward the Morning (Gordon Bok) 
When the deer has bedded down And the bear has gone to ground, And the northern goose has wandered off To warmer bay and sound, It's so easy in the cold to feel The darkness of the year And the heart is growing lonely For the morning
 Oh, my Joanie, don't you know That the stars are swinging slow, And the seas are rolling easy As they did so long ago? If I had a thing to give you, I would tell you one more time That the world is always turning Toward the morning. 
Now October's growing thin And November's coming home; You'll be thinking of the season And the sad things that you've seen, And you hear that old wind walking, Hear him singing high and thin, You could swear he's out there singing Of your sorrow. 
When the darkness falls around you And the Northwind come to blow, And you hear him call you name out As he walks the brittle snow: That old wind don't mean you trouble, He don't care or even know, He's just walking down the darkness Toward the morning. 
It's a pity we don't know What the little flowers know. They can't face the cold November They can't take the wind and snow: They put their glories all behind them, 
Bow their heads and let it go, But you know they'll be there shining In the morning. 
Now, my Joanie, don't you know That the days are rolling slow, And the winter's walking easy, As he did so long ago? And, if that wind would come and ask you, "Why's my Joanie weeping so?" Wont you tell him that you're weeping For the morning? 
Recorded by Bok, Trickett and Muir on "Turning Toward the Morning", FSI-56, copyright 1975. 
"One of the things that provoked this song was a letter last November from a friend who had had a very difficult year and was looking for the courage to keep on plowing into it. Those times, you lift your eyes unto the hills, as they say, but the hills of Northern New England in November can be about as much comfort as a cold crowbar. You have to look ahead a bit, then, and realize that all the hills and trees and flowers will still be there come Spring, usually more permanent than your troubles. And if your courage occasionally fails, that's okay, too: nobody expects you to be as strong (or as old) as the land." - Gordon Bok