Rain hammers the cracked panes above my bench
Leather drinks the oil, dark and deep
Taxi tires hiss on midnight avenues
Fares fade out while the city sleeps
Hands know the grain better than any map
Stitch by stitch the broken seams reknit
Glass and grain hold the light together
Cracked panes glow when the sun hits low
Glass and grain wear the weather
Mended soles walk where the wild winds blow
Passenger asks how far to the border
Cobbler smiles — there's no end to the road
Meter clicks like a heartbeat in winter
Polish cloth moves in a rhythm old
Hands know the grain better than any map
Stitch by stitch the broken seams reknit
Glass and grain hold the light together
Cracked panes glow when the sun hits low
Glass and grain wear the weather
Mended soles walk where the wild winds blow
Greenhouse roof sings when the hail comes down
Violin weeps through the splintered glass
Steering wheel shakes on the gravel shoulder
Both men know that the journey passes
No fare paid for the miles behind you
No sole saved from the stone and thorn
But the buffing rag keeps its circle turning
And the fiddle plays what the heart has worn
Glass and grain hold the light together
Cracked panes glow when the sun hits low
Glass and grain wear the weather
Mended soles walk where the wild winds blow
Dawn paints gold on the fractured ridges
Boots lined up by the taxi stand
Two old hands — one on leather, one on wheel
Both still gripping what they understand
Glass and grain hold the light together
Cracked panes glow when the sun hits low
Glass and grain wear the weather
Mended soles walk where the wild winds blow
Glass and grain — forever
Glass and grain — we go
Fiddle fades on prairie wind
Harpsichord ticks...
