Pocket Full of Worms

In Carolina we cut berries

thick as nickels,

makes more noise than

an apple plopping in a bowl.

I can't say breakfast

will last 'til lunch,

but a cup of coffee seems 

to roll like Scripture

from a preacher's tongue.

I'm settling in to some Southren ways,

I can whistle up a mockingbird

and I know if you oil boil

a pampano fish,

it'll swell up like a poison dog.

The heart warms quicker than bones,

root beer floating beneath the flag

in a white rocker just because it's sunny,

and that bit about the morning

ain't no lie.

In fact a dawn bloom magnolia

make you feel as home as a robin

with a pocket full of worms,

and then one Saturday,

you're up hand mowing the lawn,

as if you always cared.