You haul the parcel through the rain
Your boots know every cobblestone
The workshop yard hides rusted chain
Where Achillea claims its own
Compass rose grows where you stand
Needle finds the living land
Taraxacum breaks the stone
Roots return what you have known
The package weighs in winter air
Your fingers numb on leather strap
But Plantago springs up there
Green ribs split the cracked map
Compass rose grows where you stand
Needle finds the living land
Taraxacum breaks the stone
Roots return what you have known
You check the dial for northern light
But arrow quivers toward the shed
Where Hypericum burns bright
St John's wort in shadows spread
Compass rose grows where you stand
Needle finds the living land
Taraxacum breaks the stone
Roots return what you have known
The workshop smells of oil and pine
Your breath makes clouds in fading day
But Veronica draws a line
Blue stars in the clay's gray sway
Magnetic north was never fixed
It follows life beneath the frost
Each root a vein where signals mixed
Each shoot a point to find the lost
You set the box on mossy wood
The compass spins then settles deep
Where Primula verna understood
The promises you could not keep
Compass rose grows where you stand
Needle finds the living land
Taraxacum breaks the stone
Roots return what you have known
Compass rose grows compass rose grows
The needle rests on green
You finally arrive
