Spring Sick

Winter blues–ooooooooh
The smell of the warm earth
Pulls me

I miss the feel of stones
In my hand
Smooth ones and the arrowheads

I want to hear the
Night babies. Peepers,
And whipporils and the hoot owl

Then in the morning
I’ll taste blackberries and black coffee
And watch the fawn dance

I’ll turn my face to the southern wind
And close my eyes
Ooh ooh ooh La

So I’ll use my Spirit
Over flesh senses and
Just go there

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