June 23: Earth

A little behind on June poems, but I’m playing catchup:

Earthbound

Charlie and Alta doubted the moon landing,
believing instead the claims that footage
had been shot somewhere in Arizona.
Even then, for them, a trip to Arizona
was as likely as one to the moon.

They could have thrown a rock and hit
Tennessee from their front yard in Zip City,
where they sat on the porch in metal folding chairs
watching cars zip by, heading to state line for beer.

They turned in early for bed, long before
the barflies started weaving their way home
Their old black Impala only crossed the state line
when they got a hankering for adventure
and fried catfish at the  café in Leoma.

They never once boarded a plane, rarely
brought their car all the way to fifty-five,
preferring to leave early, take their time,
make it home before dark, before the moon.

Having spent so much time looking down,
hoeing, plowing, always on the lookout
for copperheads, they were earthbound
by choice, the red clay in their blood.

They trusted the moon to hang there untrampled,
a night light to owls and quiet creatures.
They eyed instead the sun, the rainclouds
moving in from the west, prayer answered.