You sit where the cold iron bends.
Where the gray river water ends.
Your orange fur glows in the haze.
Watching the mist in a daze.
Calico guard on the stone.
Waiting for seeds to be sown.
Patient as roots in the clay.
Watching the river drift away.
You breathe in the damp morning air.
With a gold-speckled, motionless stare.
The Salix leaves dip in the flow.
While the slow current ripples below.
Calico guard on the stone.
Waiting for seeds to be sown.
Patient as roots in the clay.
Watching the river drift away.
You know how the peat smells of old.
How the winter turns silver and cold.
You lean on the moss-covered rail.
Watching a thin white ribbon sail.
The soil remembers the rain.
The seed wakes up from the pain.
Hold the line till the light breaks through.
I am just waiting here with you.
Your paws press the grit and the lime.
Counting the pulse of the time.
Like a slow bloom of a night-shade vine.
Your amber eyes start to align.
Calico guard on the stone.
Waiting for seeds to be sown.
Patient as roots in the clay.
Watching the river drift away.
The fog lifts its weight from the shore.
You don't need to watch anymore.
The sunlight hits the water green.
The clearest sight I've ever seen.
Calico guard on the stone.
Waiting for seeds to be sown.
Patient as roots in the clay.
Watching the river drift away.
Drift away.
Just drift away.
Stay right there.
