Feeding My Soul

Feeding my soul, I look at barns and want inside Feeding my soul, I smile at children and touch their hands Feeding my soul, I talk to truckers and watch them cry Feeding my soul, I tip the hobos and hear the truth Feeding my soul, I count the geese in southern flight Feeding my soul, I love my family wife, and friends Feeding my soul, I wander in the sea air and smell the morning Feeding my soul, I catch the devil in disguise Feeding my soul, I trade redemption for the promise of another wish Feeding my soul, I write these words, —feeding my soul (69th St. Philadelphia: August, 1977)