Jake A. Poet I do not know?

I Know the Things and People

I know the things and people keeping all
my spirit whole, the death of these
can only mean the death of me; the call
is blaring out the door, to me, to please

my appetite, I live to hear the sound;
the still is shattered from the note around.

The places in the country, lonely, soft
and full of crickets chirping, rabbits small
and nimble, sitting on a loft
It's here I may release the thickened wall.

The loft atop the log across the creek,
oh here the sorrowful, the deep and meek.

The people, mother, brother, friends and loves,
they all can calm my racing heart.
My soul, my lover with the air of doves,
my reckless woman who I keep apart.

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