Morning frost on Commonwealth
Breath hangs heavy on the air
Tourists count the copper turns
Locals know the wind don't care
Leaves stack deep on Garden paths
Tires hiss on wet cobblestones
I've seen fifty winters come
Fifty springs shake out their bones
Wind pays no fare but it rides all day
Spins me round the compass rose
North to south on Boston streets
Where the Charles River flows
Wind pays no fare but it writes the code
Etches deep in verdigris
Every gust a passenger
Every calm a memory
Red Sox caps turn into beanies
Marathon medals catch the light
I've watched the city hold its breath
Through blizzards and July nights
Pigeons roost on copper shoulders
Rain writes songs on oxidized skin
The Old State House keeps its secrets
I just spin where winds begin
Wind pays no fare but it rides all day
Spins me round the compass rose
North to south on Boston streets
Where the Charles River flows
Wind pays no fare but it writes the code
Etches deep in verdigris
Every gust a passenger
Every calm a memory
No tip jar on this corner post
No receipt for miles traveled
Just the creak of iron joints
And the maple leaves unraveled
Sunset paints the dome in copper
Matches what I've become
Fixed in place but always turning
Steady as the rising sun
Wind pays no fare but it rides all day
Spins me round the compass rose
North to south on Boston streets
Where the Charles River flows
Wind pays no fare but it writes the code
Etches deep in verdigris
Every gust a passenger
Every calm a memory
Still spinning when the meter stops
Still watching Boston breathe
