Feeding my soul,
  I look at barns
  and want inside

Feeding my soul,
  I smile at children
  and touch their hands

Feeding my soul,
  I talk to truckers
  and watch them cry

Feeding my soul,
   I tip the hobos
   and hear the truth

Feeding my soul,
  I count the geese
  in southern flight

Feeding my soul,
  I love my family
  wife, and friends

Feeding my soul,
  I wander in the sea air
  and smell the morning

Feeding my soul,
  I catch the devil
  in disguise

Feeding my soul,
  I trade redemption
  for the promise of another wish

Feeding my soul,
  I write these words,
—feeding my soul

(69th St. Philadelphia: August, 1977)