The Dark Wax in the Wood (Hoar)

Lyrics

[Intro]
Pemba told me about it last night, under the lantern in the lapidary workshop.
His voice low, eyes far away, remembering a dawn in Tibet, 1998.

[Verse 1]
He said the oak branch, the one by the River Thames,
John Evelyn saw it in January 1665,
Candied over with ice, a hoar-frost so thick,
It looked like snow of sugar on every twig.
I've never felt below zero Celsius,
Here on Point Nemo, the waves are always warm.
But I set up my wooden easel near the window,
Dipped the stiff-bristled brush in white and silver pigment.

[Chorus]
Hoar, the dark wax in the wood,
Thin needle-like crystals on the bare oak,
Forming fern patterns, like lace woven by winter's breath.
Pemba called it the kiss of a ghost,
Crisp metallic tang in the air at early dawn.
I paint what I can't touch, the brittle crackle under my fingers.

[Verse 2]
The farmer's almanac from 1850 says it's the breath of winter,
Weaving lace on every twig, fern frost on windowpanes.
In unheated rooms of old England, before insulation came.
Pemba described the meadow near the Thames,
Cold moist air settling, temperatures dropping to 32 Fahrenheit threshold.
I imagine the sound, faint and brittle,
Like stepping on the thinnest glass.
My canvas fills with silver veins, the hoar claiming the branch.

[Bridge]
Why does it sound like something hidden, whispered?
Hoar, just frost, innocent as the morning.
But Mrs. Patterson would cough, turn away.
Pemba laughs quietly, says paint the truth.
The crystals grow in my mind, delicate, untouched.

[Verse 3]
John Evelyn, aged 45, wrote it in his diary,
The trees all dressed in sugar snow.
I add the details: the feathery structures,
Exposed surfaces on a clear cold night.
No rivers here, no frost, but in my painting,
The oak branch lives, coated in dark wax illusion.

[Outro]
Pemba nods, says it's close enough.
The hoar in the wood, forever on my canvas.
Now, let's see if the twins understand.