Boots dusty on the adobe stair
Compass needle spins without a care
No lantern beam to pierce the night
Just desert stars in silent prayer
Salt wind memory in these dry lungs
Kerosene scent on calloused thumb
The route ends at this painted door
Where mesa winds blow evermore
Battered north won't point me home
Waltz time ticks on the veranda stone
Santa Fe lights bleed low and gold
This courier's tale is nearly told
Package wrapped in oilskin cloth
Address blurred by sun and moth
Recipient name worn smooth away
Like barnacles on buoy and bay
Battered north won't point me home
Waltz time ticks on the veranda stone
Santa Fe lights bleed low and gold
This courier's tale is nearly told
Once I kept the lantern burning bright
Guided ships through storm and freezing night
Now I wait where no tide turns
Compass broken, lesson learns
Wooden rocker creaks beneath my weight
Felt piano notes arrive late
Pizzicato strings pluck salt memories
Of foghorns on the angry seas
Delivery done, the bag lies still
No more routes to climb the hill
Compass rests on splintered wood
Pointing where it knows it should
Battered north won't point me home
Waltz time ticks on the veranda stone
Santa Fe lights bleed low and gold
This courier's tale is nearly told
Needle settles, finally true
North is wherever I choose
