Our Common Soil | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram
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Our Common Soil 

Our Common Soil

This is my house
These are my tall trees
maple, locust, ash, white pine
My neighbor’s field as wild as Maine,
sweet with milkweed

This is the road that leads to my house
where on my walk today I saw
more deer than cars,
a scurrying chipmunk
A slow-strutting wild turkey

This is my granite cliff
guarding my valley
late sun slanting over its shoulder

This is my town where
kids play drums and guitars on the stoops
this year’s crop just like last year’s

This is my town where
the answer to godhatesfaggots
was All you need is love

But this is my country
where cold-eyed men cattle-prod our fear
to make us obey

This is my country
where decent people watch
the murders they have paid for,
and yawn, and go to sleep

This is my country where
nature crouches, terrified, under
the sole tree in a new parking lot

This is my country
where greed has corrupted our common soil

Generations will live and die
before the taint leaves our blood

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