A-Ooga Tioga
Sky, mountain and mist rise
with morning breath
It’s crisp until coffee goes in
but no bother for that
instead, searching for sun, kept out of sight
figuring which way is east
Which way is yonder?
still, more you might ponder
As you sink into the lap of Tioga valleys
cradled by ash and oaks
fields of daisy mixed with rye and wheat
spread at your feet
like wedding dress of Mother Nature herself
She says softly:
“Pssst, hey you
Don’t put on those shoes
tiptoe way across my seedy crinolines
lie upon me
Sink in insubstantiality with me
as I draw
rays and beams, beyond
some twenty rolling hills
In our for all future time horizon
you may still be dreaming
indulge yourself in my verdant fantasies
**** up this morning with me
This is Appalachian reverie
hear me like little turkey gobbling
dance with doe and fawn
chase jackrabbit
round and round
Why, even the silos are singing
“Pour me a cup” ”
Written at Mikey's cabin in the Tioga Hills of Pennsylvania, near Mansfield. You'd really like it there. Anyone would.