Song of the Thrush
Honor the land that pours
meager milk
amid the rocks
and the ambitions
of home,
this tiny escarpment;
honor the hand that
bleeds for sake of
barns and beets
the
potent ferns
fishers, foxes
the worshiping great oaks
moss, mushrooms feeding
the wet amphibians
exalting their triumph;
Honor this land
stubborn as yourselves
well into its
dark-green future.
—Josie Carothers
Depot Road
