Song of the Thrush

Honor the land that pours
meager milk
amid the rocks

and the ambitions
of home,
this tiny escarpment;

honor the hand that
bleeds for sake of
barns and beets

the
potent ferns
fishers, foxes
the worshiping great oaks
moss, mushrooms feeding
the wet amphibians
exalting their triumph;

Honor this land
stubborn as yourselves
well into its
dark-green future. 

—Josie Carothers
Depot Road