From the interstate I can see
The pastures roll
and rise
Towards the sky
In Tennessee
From the interstate I can see
The pastures roll
and rise
Towards the sky
In Tennessee
I remember it like my name
The air was crisp, the sky was blue
A spring breeze rocked white blooms
The day I met the two of you
Now we mark this day each year
In our hearts and in our home
With song, feasting, and friends
And in this we’re not alone
As March melts into April
God decorates the earth
The azaleas blossom every year
To celebrate your birth
sunday bests?
yeah, i’ll put those on
but they don’t quench my thirst
i can hide my bones
under fancy rags
but it doesn’t break the curse
oh, i’ll sing praise
this Easter morn’
but it won’t be to clothes
but to Jesus
who died for my sunday worsts
and then from death arose
Wonderful and weighed-down
Bouquets of helium bags
Jumble on every table
Until a strong gust shoves them off
And they saunter like zombies
Across our pavilion
A window is a wonderful thing
A place to lounge and look at spring
A place to perch and hear the birds
A place to sit and wish for words
Gazing through a pane makes things clear
It magnifies joy and muffles fear
It provides the peace that clarity brings
A window is a wonderful thing
Few things
are more enjoyable
Than settling
Into a comfortable
Corner of the world
And taking a nap
Pale yellow new-day
Dawning behind black trees,
A sunset in reverse.
Promise of today,
Seeping through the leaves,
Breaks the evening’s curse.
The sun, unseen, affects this change
With the light that it supplies.
The moon, suspended, in the West
Watches as the darkness dies.