Low Country
"one day you must leave us,"
he was cautioned as a boy-
"to become a student in the city
perchance you should return here
a rich man or a priest"
as autumn waltzed with winter
the fields rose tall again
that child, all but a man now
frowned upon things outgrown
and saddled father's mare
the eastbound rail line led him down
lurching thousand lonely miles
into the jaws of metropolis
where heaven diminished
in a hazy, orange halo
wary souls called to him dimly
from cold brick roads and alleyways
through the double-doors of old town tavern
drawn in by distant strumming tunes-
the buzz and hum of low country blues
Copyright © Greg Easley | Year Posted 2006
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