Todd Burge

West Virginia's Singer-Songwriter

 

 

DON BAKER - THE CYCLE NEVER ENDS

July 08, 2025  /  Todd Burge

After listening to and reflecting on my album Seed, Don Baker sent me his song “The Cycle Never Ends”. Don resides in Belpre Ohio and is one of the most prolific songwriters I’ve ever known.

Check out his work here.

“The song is based on seeds blowing in the wind, taking root, and becoming something totally different at the end of their life. And my dad built his first fiddle out of an old pine board from a tool shed that was torn down. The fiddle is still in the family. Dad built a total of eight fiddles, and each kid got to pick out the one we wanted.”
— Don Baker - Songwriter - Belpre Ohio

The Cycle Never Ends – By Don Baker

The pinecone met the sunshine and opened up with ease

Felt the wind blowing and gave up all its seeds

Gave up all its seeds

Some were eaten by the birds but one of them lay still

A pine tree started growing way up on the hill

Way up on the hill

It stood there a hundred years continuing to grow

Felt the heat of summer, felt the winter cold

Well it felt the winter cold

Til one night in December, the wind was getting wild

Pressed against the branches and laid the big tree down

Laid the big tree down

The cycle never ends

Tall trees sway and bend

Some will break but the story won’t end

It just starts all over again

 

Hitched it to a team of mules and drug it down the hill

Across the muddy waters and down to the mill

Down to the mill

Dirt and sweat and sawdust laying on the floor

I sold a stack of lumber but kept my favorite board

Oh I kept my favorite board

I worked for a long time, and when my work was through

I gently held it to my chin and played a fiddle tune

Oh I played a fiddle tune

The cycle never ends

Tall trees sway and bend

Some will break but the story won’t end

It just starts all over again

Some will break but the story won’t end

It just starts all over again

 

 

SEED
Late in 2023, I released Seed, an open invitation for collaboration—an album designed to be shared, reshaped, and reimagined by you. Many of you took that challenge to heart, and now the time has come to showcase what’s bloomed. I’m thrilled to begin sharing FLOWER—a growing collection of songs, remixes, poems, paintings, and more, all inspired by Seed. This is your creativity, your voice, your vision. There are no limits here. No wrong notes or brush strokes. Keep creating with me and I’ll do the same.

Thank you

Todd

 

P.S. If you’ve created something from Seed and haven’t shared it yet, it’s not too late. Send it my way. EMAIL TODD

 

Special thanks to The Oakland Foundation for supporting this project.

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Looking Ahead by Marc Harshman & Bob Thompson

May 24, 2025  /  Todd Burge

Marc Harshman, WV’s Poet Laureate & WV Music Hall of Famer Bob Thompson took the Seed Project and created this “Flower”.

In 2023, I released Seed, an open invitation for collaboration—an album designed to be shared, reshaped, and reimagined by you. Many of you took that challenge to heart, and now the time has come to showcase what’s bloomed. I’m thrilled to begin sharing FLOWER—a growing collection of songs, remixes, poems, paintings, and more, all inspired by Seed. This is your creativity, your voice, your vision. There are no limits here. No wrong notes or brush strokes. Keep creating with me and I’ll do the same.
Thank you
Todd

P.S. If you’ve created something from Seed and haven’t shared it yet, it’s not too late. Send it my way.

Special thanks to The Oakland Foundation for supporting this project.

Dear Todd,

It was a true pleasure to listen to your songs, to pore over your words, and then to respond with my own words. It made me happy to see what a resonance was set up when certain of your tunes & snatches of lyrics drove forward this poem. Hope it pleases you regardless of any other plans you may have had in this request for collaboration.

Marc Harshman - Jan 2024

LOOKING AHEAD

for Todd Burge’s Seed to Flower Project

When the breeze lifts the milkweed,

with its slender, seed-dotted hair

to release its early autumn flurries,

I know we’re already reaching

far through the months ahead

toward spring’s resurrections.

And when the breeze grows colder

and me just a little older,

I study that fox squirrel

criss-crossing my lawn

cheeks puffed with walnut,

butternut, hickory, or acorn.

The bookie in me is uncertain

what odds to place

on him ever finding

any of these ever again

but I’ll tip the scales

if I can, wish him well,

wish the mast this year

abundant and delicious.

And the seeds I plant grow even now

through the harshest winds of winter,

both named and nameless,

both dreams and the rock-solid real.

Name them actual, the hopes

from the seed bank of

half-runner beans and

bloody-butcher corn, of

deer-tongue lettuce and

blue Hubbard squash.

Name them nameless, or rather, try

even if almost hopelessly, try

to name the dreams I have

for food, shelter and warmth

for all and everyone, the hope

for remembering to say

thank-you—after you, please—bless you—

and, yes, hope always to plant

seeds for peace and love.

Recording mixed and engineered by David Traugh

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