I root in loam and heavy clay
Where Latin names begin the day
I watch the *Salix* bend its knee
Beside the river running free
Turning round on a copper line
Searching for a hidden sign
Over the bridge in a silver haze
Lost in the river's winding maze
I pivot north to catch the cold
A weathered skin of orange gold
I see the water thick and white
A ghostly curtain in the light
Turning round on a copper line
Searching for a hidden sign
Over the bridge in a silver haze
Lost in the river's winding maze
I prune the dead and feed the root
I wait for every winter shoot
I hear the metal groan and sway
While mist consumes the dying day
Turning round on a copper line
Searching for a hidden sign
Over the bridge in a silver haze
Lost in the river's winding maze
The iron beams are wet with dew
A heavy shade of indigo blue
I spin until my axis breaks
Above the ripple of the lakes
Silt in the water, salt in the air
A steady gaze and a frozen stare
No one is calling, no one is near
Only the humming of the gear
The *Mentha* grows along the stone
A garden kept and kept alone
The wind decides which way to go
While heavy river currents flow
Turning round on a copper line
Searching for a hidden sign
Over the bridge in a silver haze
Lost in the river's winding maze
Spinning round in the silver haze
Lost in the river's winding maze
