Am I really so flawed?
Am I truly that odd?
Crawling like a snake
Into the canebrake
A whoremongering fraud
No wonder you don't like me.
Deer linger in the bitterbrush
Below the gambel oak—
The brittle fern shows no concern
For killdeer or cowpoke.
The miner’s candle lights our way
Now lost in limber pine—
The water birch does not besmirch
Beargrass at timberline.
Sky pilots bend on mountain side
Dark as the black hawthorn—
A horned lark rests on the ninebark—
Between the two we’re torn.
We journey south through water oak,
Coral bean, supple jack—
We ride beneath magnolia leaf
And miss not what we lack.
A canebrake rattler comes too close,
Like death in the sweet bay—
Chinaberry makes us tarry
This oleander day.
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