Good Earth

I miss my grave, I miss the dirt

I miss the bugs, and good calm smell

I miss the feet walking over me

How the different kinds of shoes

Played music on the wet grass

I miss my coffin, I miss those worms

I miss the cold, and steady long shadows

I miss the flowers they'd leave next to me

How the petals would blown over my tombstone

Like someone put them there on purpose

I miss my dog, I miss the rough throat she used to sing

I miss the teeth, and the fleshy taste of dinner

I miss the sun as the roots twist into me

How the light would dance in the dust

Shining off her crown on that Friday night

I miss when I wasn't in the green good earth

I miss the words I once heard whispered in my ear

I miss when I wasn't cut up and inside out

How I could eat a belly full of pies and not burst

Like a man happy with his home on this good earth