Call from the Doorway

Before the ovens breathe,
Before the shutters rise
One wooden note
Crosses the fields.

A cup waits upside down beside the well.
Dust holds the shape of yesterday's cart.
You lift a tune as quietly as a bell.
And leave it hanging past the garden wall.

From the far side of the olive rows
A second voice finds the road.

Call from the doorway, answer from the hill,
Let the morning choose the turning.
No one knows the ending still,
But every heart is learning.

A child stops tying ribbon through her hair.
A baker listens with his hands in flour.
The old gate answers in its rusted prayer
And one more voice arrives before the hour.

Call from the doorway, answer from the hill.
Let the morning choose the turning.
No one knows the ending still,
But every heart is learning.

Not a promise, not a plan,
Just a thread from hand to hand.
What began with one small sound,
Now has feet upon the ground.

Call from the doorway, answer from the hill.
Let the morning choose the turning.
No one knows the ending still,
So we gather, breathing, burning.

Call from the doorway, answer from the hill,
Till the quiet starts returning.
No one knows the ending still,
And that is why we're learning.

The sun reaches the village wall,
The last voice joins them all.

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https://disk.yandex.ru/d/1Y1IoIDgA-eA-A

Instrumental composition is available at the following link:

https://disk.yandex.ru/d/MIeUWFeTsDrdxQ