Free State? Hah! Now we be clamped upon!
Leave us free– free by the tea rose planted
by the wild blue indigo.
Ah, that’s so much better, the pale pink and scented gold
begging to be plucked and saved in the family bible,
plucked beneath criss-crossed lace of layered mares tails
as the indigo bends and waves.
And the woodcock is so far away,
hiding in the young woods by her favorite log,
the log under the wild rose glowing in the morning mist.
— Ardys Ramberg