If On a Clear Day

If on a Clear Day

If, on a clear day, you holler across the river,
she can hear you from her porch. 

Where the chickens cluck underfoot and a dozen deer
trample the grass. 

At night the lights might not sparkle so bright but
baby the stars sure do. 

Where wind sweeps off the mountain behind and
tousles her hair through the open kitchen window. 

In this quiet, lazy place music drifts down from the
green roofed church on Sunday afternoons. 

Where the apple trees lay their fruit and the yellow
finch sharply watches from his nearby perch.

On warm days you’ll find her knee deep in the
river, fighting for balance and laughing in the loss. 

Where they say coyotes cross the field at night
and the red barn lays empty but for hay. 

If you holler on that clear day across the river, from
her porch she just might holler back. 

Where she’s barefoot in the yard while neighbors
wave hello and chances are she’d sure like to see
you.