Spine and Dowel

[Verse 1]
The Ryobi drill press screams at 2 AM
Through the double-glazing of her window pane.
He planes the edge, a bead of sweat on his temple, then
His knuckles white around the maple grain.
She traces the condensation with one finger,
The anatomy of a world held under glass.

[Chorus]
And the sawdust catches the porch light in a gold cloud
He is making a thing with a purpose
A thing built to last
Some kind of hard, unnamable grace

[Verse 2]
She maps the tremor in her own left hand
Against the steady pressure of his grip.
The scent of varnish cuts the Listerine, a new land
Spoken from the chisel at his fingertip.
For months, his work was just a muffled sound,
A counter-rhythm to the monitor's low beep.

[Chorus]
And the sawdust catches the porch light in a gold cloud
He is making a thing with a purpose
A thing built to last
Some kind of hard, unnamable grace

[Bridge]
The late-night rerun host says, "We've got a real beauty here."
He steps back from the finished wooden frame.

[Outro]
He turns the light off.
The house goes dark again.