Friday, April 26, 2013

Susquehanna County

I have seen your front porches
Your piles of blue stone
 I have seen just a slip of your skin
      And it is beautiful
Are beautiful.
Tonight, however, you are rolling greens and specks of water
You are a row of white pinwheels
Children’s toys
Too small, even, for my fingers
I parted seas to find you
You welcomed me with Blue Shadow Ridges and matchstick trees
Waiting to be lit by the cool breeze of autumn
A breeze that felt like winter while crossing those lines
The way tow straps stretch across the beds of pickup trucks
     Holding lives in place
My life, is not a place
It is a truck bed
And unfinished home built by unfinished people
A plane
A book by an old friend
A free drink
A lake, so large, it looks like an ocean
Even from a distance
From the ticking of twenty two hours
Tonight, I am alongside the contrails of parallel stories
Alongside a thin blue line between this evening’s floor
     That is littered with golden spiders
And God’s ceiling
 I don’t think so, just endless questions
The answer is always home, wherever I may lie
And soon, that will be with you again, Susquehanna County
     Save for me your blue stone sunset
     Your north eastern plantation porches
     Save for me your matchstick fires, your rains and your rolling thunder
Save for me a place in your bosom 

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