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Image for the poem A mountain song

A mountain song

All you heretics of dawn,
Scatter, scatter
Rise in whoosh and caw
 
On tips of dark wings
Carry away
In your thickening gather and hold
The high tremble  
Of mountain songs
 
The old verses sing of murder
Sing of the barrel and ghosts in gingham  
They sing of blood in yellow plates of hair
 
Woe these still living troublesome times
Woe those who do live by the bend
 
The asphalt sticks and yonder a holler
A hollowed tree and a secret within
Old man sits weary
And guards a loved one
His post put  
By the likes of him
 
All you heretics of dawn
Scatter, scatter
Rise in whoosh and caw
 
Find him a yard
To labor in chains
With ball dragging as her memory did
 
And have him sing harmony  
With the clef of your thicket  
Woe is the harmony with this mountain song  

Woe these still living troublesome times
Woe those who do live by the bend

Caw and Caw
You heretics of dawn
Meet her day  
With feathers, black  
 
Whoosh and rise
We make her a church
And then God almighty  
See you never come back
Written by calamitygin (Jennifer Michael McCurry)
Published
Author's Note
Inspired by old hillbilly music
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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