Before country music
knit itself together
from the melting-pot
came folk–old country ballads,
the gospel, the blues,
the work-songs, the stories.

Listening to “I Wish I Was
A Mole In The Ground, ”
I do–sometimes, my own body
feels unlike home, and wouldn’t it be
easier to be a lizard in the spring?

Imagine a home of clear water, slow
and blinking through the dim evening light.
Imagine regeneration like the lizard’s tail,
as if one could grow into a whole new thing.