Sunday, October 30, 2011


I feel the mountians calling me
my soul runs deep and green
my roots are there
in that North Carolina soil
and I feel it calling me home
I miss the sounds of cicadas
singing me to sleep at night
I long for pines and kudzu vines
foggy misty morning views
that go on into violet smoke oblivion
The sticky sweet of her summers
pulls to me like a song
the taste and smell of a muscadine
bees buzzing in the harp of the honey suckle
luring me in like a scented siren
making me long for home
so my tears will fall
in this far north land
on soil that doesn't know
what it is to be
so treasured by me
while I sing my song of home

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