Harold Whit Williams: Alabama Field Holler

I have decided to blame no one for my life.
– Robert Bly

Winter morning all hollowed-out,
Whistling its one-note ballad.

Morning bark-stripped, sanded-down,
Held over a flame. A woodsmoke

Morning piping clear across
Childhood back pastures.

Let me wake early to cop the riffs
Of this bygone morning song.

Let me stomp out with snare drum
Past granddaddy’s electric fence.

I’ll get in tune with morning, root
Myself down into the hard red clay.

I’ll call a blues to myself in 4/4 time,
Stand back and await the response.