At the end of a thousand miles,
I skim the mesa in my night-colored car
with the windows rolled down
That mist of pretty stars in the distance is my hometown
Though this is not the place to offer me
any kind of welcome,
I go for that little galaxy,
roughly in the shape I remember it,
making a heart in the big river basin
where water and oil lie secret under the earth
And off to the north,
lightning flashes in the bellies of low-lying clouds
That slow strobe of golden light
fills me with resolute joy
Fields run alongside the road,
opening wide,
and the smell of alfalfa on a humid summer night
changes my mind about a lot of things
What things? Can't tell you now
But I swear by this sweet road
I am the child who ate this dirt
I am the dear daughter who was hankered for
I am the prodigal, singing my Southern hymn
I am the nighthawk, winging my way home.
