My country lies in the cradle rocking

My country lies in the cradle rocking,
knocking at my door you come-
with a bat that is ready to swing
you bring this inning home.

Integrity lies on the willow waiting,
baiting at my line to bring
a fisher’s hook my eye to catch-
watch it bleed and sing.

The lonely rendered jack a boot,
hooting owl, a nightly ghost-
swoops the sparrow from his nest
and all the rest is quickly toast.

My country lies in the cradle rocking,
knocking at my door you came-
jingoist called me honey-
the sparrow’s impending doom.

4/2017

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