I am the oven's heavy steel
Turning the dough upon a wheel
I feel the yeast begin to rise
While city lights blur in his eyes
He calls the Monarda by its name
The wild green garden is a game
He bakes the rye and tends the seed
A quiet life is all he'll need
The Hedera climbs the brick wall high
Under a purple velvet sky
He checks the soil with steady hand
The richest dirt in all the land
He calls the Monarda by its name
The wild green garden is a game
He bakes the rye and tends the seed
A quiet life is all he'll need
Sourdough bubbles in the glass jar
He watches every distant star
The pump organ hums a low gold tone
A secret world he calls his own
He calls the Monarda by its name
The wild green garden is a game
He bakes the rye and tends the seed
A quiet life is all he'll need
Patience is grown in potting clay
Waiting for winter to fade away
He talks to leaves of silver green
The calmest sight I've ever seen
The brassy horns begin to play
As midnight turns to misty gray
A pinch of salt and water clear
The morning light is drawing near
The oven heat is humming low
Watching the mint and clover grow
He wipes the flour from his sleeve
A magic spell he will believe
He calls the Monarda by its name
The wild green garden is a game
He bakes the rye and tends the seed
A quiet life is all he'll need
Flour and Fern
Wait for the turn
Wait for the turn
