Blue denim worn and faded gray
I watch the autumn drift away
The iron rod is hot and bright
I hold the line against the night
The *Acer rubrum* turns to gold
A story that the pavers hold
I trace the vein of ancient clay
And keep the winter frost at bay
Hold the line in the Boston cold
Keep the red brick stories told
Steady hand and a patient eye
Underneath a slate gray sky
A stranger stops to watch the spark
A sudden light within the dark
We share a nod a quiet glance
A brief and momentary chance
Hold the line in the Boston cold
Keep the red brick stories told
Steady hand and a patient eye
Underneath a slate gray sky
The *Sedge* is sleeping in the mud
A dormant pulse a frozen flood
I weld the seam I seal the crack
To bring the old foundation back
The wind is biting sharp and keen
The narrow gaps are barely seen
I plant my feet in heavy boot
To guard the city's deepest root
The harpsichord begins to chime
A slow and steady beat of time
The copper torch begins to glow
While orange maple leaves descend slow
Hold the line in the Boston cold
Keep the red brick stories told
Steady hand and a patient eye
Underneath a slate gray sky
Red brick root.
Just a steady hand.
Red brick root.
