| <Iris DeMent> page <The Trackless Woods> album page |
From an AirplaneVersts by the hundred, milesBy hundreds, hundreds Of dim kilometers beneath our track Reaches of salt marsh, feather Grass that billowed Beyond, the somber cedar Groves showed black As though, for the first time I saw my country And, with a pang of recognition, knew It is all mine and nothing can divide us It is my soul, it is my body, too ... |