Iron skin and a chipped blue rim
Heavy water makes the vision dim
I stand alone by the garden gate
Counting rhythms while the mornings wait
Step by step on the wooden beam
Crossing over to a silver stream
Counting pulses in the morning haze
Lost inside of these winding ways
Muddy boots leave a heavy trace
Walking slow to a steady pace
Cold wind blows through the willow tree
Where the river runs wild and free
Step by step on the wooden beam
Crossing over to a silver stream
Counting pulses in the morning haze
Lost inside of these winding ways
Red rust flakes on a metal side
Nowhere left for the old to hide
Forty paces to the middle rail
Where the sunlight turns a ghostly pale
Step by step on the wooden beam
Crossing over to a silver stream
Counting pulses in the morning haze
Lost inside of these winding ways
Cold wet stones in the river bed
Copper colors and a golden thread
Hold the weight of the falling dew
Turning old things into something new
Water drips from a frozen spout
Counting breaths till the light comes out
One more stride to the other shore
I don't need to count the steps no more
Step by step on the wooden beam
Crossing over to a silver stream
Counting pulses in the morning haze
Lost inside of these winding ways
One more step to the green.
Rust and river, clear and clean.