I sit by the ledger and the ink
Where the heavy old archive books sink
My handle is rusted and brown
In a cellar deep under the town
I am the iron vessel of gold
Keeping the stories that never were told
Waiting for water to soak in the clay
While the slow hours wander away
I dream of the Monarda in bloom
Far from the damp of this windowless room
I miss how the peat feels so deep
While the seeds in the dark garden sleep
The Latin names drift on the page
Like a bird in a wide paper cage
Digitalis bells in a row
Where the wild summer perennials grow
I am the iron vessel of gold
Keeping the stories that never were told
Waiting for water to soak in the clay
While the slow hours wander away
The cello is bowing a low heavy sound
Like a root pushing deep through the ground
I hold to the hope of a sudden spring rain
To wash all the rust from my metal skin vein
I watch as the ink starts to fade
In the cool of the limestone shade
I long for the sun and the dew
To make every green leaf feel new
I am the iron vessel of gold
Keeping the stories that never were told
Waiting for water to soak in the clay
While the slow hours wander away
Soak in the clay Wander away
The iron vessel
