Mitch Sutton

Well, boys, the time’s come. I’ve had a good life And I’m ready to knock the rocker. Old Catalooch will miss me But not half so much As I’ll miss my little woman Frying sausage and grits in the morning And the whole settlement alive with axes Or grinding wheat with stone-tumbling water In the upper thicket, and nobody but me Preparing the pure ferment. Was I God or His brother Or maybe just one of His lonely sons?

Here I lie. I’ve done it. I walked out into the mouth of Spillcorn Creek Where it merges with the French Broad. Now I’m kissing kin to all the angels, Every dance stirs within me, I seek the island beyond the earth Where folks are what they really are, A spark of the living flint. Therefore, what goods still cling to me I bequeath to my unborn son, And this vision, too, As evidence of the love I bear him. I rest on the rock and roll of the sea.