AMENIFIED HIGHWAY BLUES
Power comes like trouble shooting, highlands
over level water - the five-lane bridge here
supports nothing at all. I watch the swirling
something fly - eagle, hawk, or distant tern.
What do I know of birds? Hugging watery
sides, the uplands bear their fir trees tightly.
These are them thar' hills, of old Vermont,
of Hampshire's killing ways. The single road
here takes me high, roaming through a steepened
hillside cavernous and nasty-bleak with rock.
Oh I sing the words victorious while I am
driving so alone. Up high, a'yonder pealing,
there's a cabin in the sky; that's where I'm
stealing, and that's where my fates will lie.
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