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.