All That I Need

Poem by H.L. Dowless

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This place I am in,
This way I see,
Sure is a long way away from
The domineering ole live oak tree,
Where the Model A bumper
Was hammered down for a property marker;
And life moves pleasingly slow
Down the old two rut dirt road.

Ahead I see a ragged street
Filled by a hobo camp,
Long rows of boarded up shops,
Mossy dingy wood covered fronts
And tattered erratic shiftless insolent tramps.
Everywhere stands the hulking NAFTA created ruins
Of a great prosperous past,
And into this negative repressive depressing realm
My ambitious person has been cast.

Where did the golden opportunity go?
Might it be high up on the moon?
What great secret must I somehow know?
Where is our precious hard-won individual liberty?
Will the chance for true prosperity 
Return anytime soon?

I long for the woods,
The meadows,
The towering live oak trees,
A magic veil of Spanish moss,
The vine covered ancient mansion ruins;
The squirrels,
The rabbit,
And the majestic stag;
With a baker’s tent for a house,
My Blue Tick,
My Stephens twenty-two,
And my horse for company.
Most certainly I was much more content way back when
I dwelt among these.
Such basic accommodation is all that I need.

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H.L. Dowless is a thirty-year-plus veteran writer who loves traveling, writing, and living life on the edge.