Poetry

Texas Love Song

Born and bred, y’all

Cyanotype on Fabric | print / photo by author

Texas is
the oil of Houston and the cattle of DFW,
San Antonio’s river and Austin’s old free spirit.
It’s the desert and the bayou, mountains and beaches.
It’s all the small towns in their true goodness,
the long stretches of highway through open land,
the twists and turns of the Hill Country.
It’s the music of Luckenbach and the stars of Ft Davis.
It’s peaches in Fredericksburg, pecan pies from Bastrop.
It’s boots and flipflops, tubes and fishing boats, beer and ‘ritas.
It’s freedom, and liberty,
with trust in God but not in Washington.

It’s come and take it, and a gun in your pocket
because it’s run ins with reptiles who rattle,
and feral tusks that can gore out your life.
It’s wildflowers and wildlife, gems along the highway,
armadillos and horny toads, mockingbirds and great blue herons.
It’s science and innovation, ranch houses and exploration.
It’s live oaks, mesquite, and prickly pear,
pines and cotton, planes and mesas, canyons and wind farms.
It’s real men and gorgeous women,
strong women and big hearted men.