Thursday, August 19, 2004


Don't you hear them?
Can't you feel the tug?
Won't you listen?
Must you stay?

It is the rain
Clogging on a tin roof.
Pitty-pattin' in the dust
Tappin' out the tune.

Or maybe the wind
Chucklin' down the chimbley.
Glad handin' the pines
Good natured in its callin'.

Perhaps it's the memory
of a pretty red-haired gal.
Her smile still a callin'
Eyes still hauntin'.

Listen to the call,
Hear the mountains sing.
Hallowed is their harmony
Sacred is their song.

Breath in deep, cousin
Smell the hint of sassafras.
Catch a wiff of honeysuckle
Teasin' gently, "come".

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