Late

Here in my driest days I can’t complain Holding on To a piece of home How late my brother sings As I wash my face I put my hands in place Inside my window pane A perfect picture plain How late my mother sings How I wonder when If when, this season ends As I sip from my coffee cup This fragrance loses touch How late my brother sings Up and down These county roads Snowflakes tease My driest palms Within your hands I place My purity as a man and race how late my mother sings "songs from insomnia"