First cry at dawn, a wide blue page
The ceiling sways, the kettle sings the day
I learn the clasp of someone’s hand
And how the floor becomes the land
A longer road, a heavier spoon
The highway hums a tired tune
I trade my toys for winter socks
I lick the frost from window locks
The wasp has flown, the rooftops sigh
The garden hose loops out to dry
Take the sour, kiss the sweet, the taste is deep
I pay my fare with every stone I keep
The wasp has flown, the rooftops sigh
The garden hose loops out to dry
So run the scale from wailing to the hum
It’s all a song—I’ve only just begun
A longer road, a heavier spoon
The highway hums a tired tune
I trade my toys for winter socks
I lick the frost from window locks
The wasp has flown, the rooftops sigh
The garden hose loops out to dry
Take the sour, kiss the sweet, the taste is deep
I pay my fare with every stone I keep
The wasp has flown, the rooftops sigh
The garden hose loops out to dry
So run the scale from wailing to the hum
It’s all a song—I’ve only just begun
