Water Oaks

There’s a fire burning across the levee I can smell the cypress and water oaks burning The Indians are burning spirits tonight A drive down River Road along the Mississippi A fog bank Memories of river crossings and ferries I drift with the wood Waiting to find a place to rest The smoke from the fires brings shadows of death Black and white and embers of souls lost to floods The ground is fertile here And I plant my soul Upon this alluvial plain Waiting for the water to cover me up And then recede, giving me a chance for life It has been recorded for centuries The cycle goes on Why can’t I lie in the fields and acquire the same Lie here I must but nothing happenings Am I not in convergence with earth and that entire circumference I guess I am an imposter Willing to spend the time but not the philosophy And so I lay here spent by time and money Nothing can bring me to you Your spying eye is so keen. And my mind is so dull to human feeling Tis’ a shame for we could have lived so happily in perfect harmony Now I must rise up and scream for latitude. It is not fair. It will never be fair for I am stuck here in my class. Neither moving up or down. Stuck forever in the primordial pond.