Page ix →Pee Dee Psalm

This land sings its own poems,

winds dancing through pine and sycamore,

the gurgle of suburban creeks,

the lusty roar of rivers

teaching bank and bridge who’s boss

at the stark slap of a giant storm.

Low of cattle, screech of mockingbird, rustle of cornstalks,

snap of a wayward turtle, whoosh of egret wings—

but listen too for the human noises,

midnight railroad whistles,

thump of boot heel on concrete or stone,

the holy chatter of clashing church bells

come a Sunday noon.

Where might sound take us?

How is it that, deep in sleep, or ears plugged, we feel

rhythms in muscle and bone?

How is it that, masked or muffled, we hum,

knowing something alive will catch the tune?

And we must join the chorus, each of us following

phoneme and syllable, fermata and crescendo.

We need no conductor. We need only lift our voices

to let the song carry us home.

Jo Angela Edwins is professor of English and Trustees’ Research Scholar at Francis Marion University. A widely published poet, she currently serves as the Poet Laureate of the Pee Dee. Page x →