In our days we will live like our ghosts will live
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pitching glass at the cornfield crows and folding clothes
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like stubborn boys across the road, we’ll keep everything
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Grandma’s gun and the black bear claw that took her dog
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And when sister Lowery says “Amen,” we won’t hear anything
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The ten-car train will take that word, that fledgling bird
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and the fallen house across the way, it’ll keep everything
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the baby’s breath, our bravery wasted and our shame
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And we’ll undress beside the ashes of the fire
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Both our tender bellies wound in baling wire
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All the more a pair of underwater pearls
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Than the oak tree and its resurrection fern
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In our days, we will say what our ghosts will say
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“We gave the world what it saw fit, and what’d we get?”
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Like stubborn boys with big green eyes, we’ll see everything
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in the timid shade of the autumn leaves and the buzzard’s wing
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Then we’ll undress beside the ashes of the fire
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Our tender bellies all wound around in baling wire
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All the more a pair of underwater pearls
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Than the oak tree and its resurrection fern
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Resurrection Fern
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| Iron & Wine |
