and words wound with music.
Sun sneaking through the blackjack trees.
I learned my lines where the hay met the hollow -
walked the stage with dew wet feet.
I slopped hogs with the palms of a poet.
Called cattle with a choir in my throat.
My treble and staff - my own two hands -
I danced down Section Line Road.
How I danced down Section Line Road!
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads