Water Oaks
There’s a fire burning across the levee
I can smell the cypress and water oaks burning
The Indians are burning spirits tonight
A drive down River Road along the Mississippi
A fog bank
Memories of river crossings and ferries
I drift with the wood
Waiting to find a place to rest
The smoke from the fires brings shadows of death
Black and white and embers of souls lost to floods
The ground is fertile here
And I plant my soul
Upon this alluvial plain
Waiting for the water to cover me up
And then recede, giving me a chance for life
It has been recorded for centuries
The cycle goes on
Why can’t I lie in the fields and acquire the same
Lie here I must but nothing happenings
Am I not in convergence with earth and that entire circumference
I guess I am an imposter
Willing to spend the time but not the philosophy
And so I lay here spent by time and money
Nothing can bring me to you
Your spying eye is so keen.
And my mind is so dull to human feeling
Tis’ a shame for we could have lived so happily in perfect harmony
Now I must rise up and scream for latitude. It is not fair.
It will never be fair for I am stuck here in my class. Neither moving up or down.
Stuck forever in the primordial pond.
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