There's a stone <br />in my pocket <br /> <br />and a storm <br />on my lips <br /> <br />great field voices <br />of cane and wheat <br /> <br />songs from the <br />Southern people <br />inside me <br /> <br />equinox and <br />solstice folk <br />deep inside <br />the Earth <br /> <br />Deep inside <br />my bones <br /> <br />growling for <br />that summer wind <br /> <br />an air to <br />ride the <br />back of <br /> <br />sliding into home.<br /><br />Michael Joseph Ferguson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sliding-into-home/
