Posted in poetry

Call It What You Like

Call it what you like,
I've breathed the air of it
All my life and know it
As I know my way home,
Heavy as Georgia in August,
Light as an offhand slight,
Soft as antebellum doilies,
Hard as quad-cab Fords
Cruising on Friday nights,
Invisible and palpable,
Filling all the spaces,
Sealing souls from souls.

Author:

I’ve retired after a career teaching law. I divide my time now between Athens, Georgia, in the States and the south coast of Ireland.