In The Red Clay Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Friendship in the tears of ghettos,
Mud daubers pooling quietly along
The lips of fences
And lanais- while the men pile up
Underneath of these fences,
Entire hemispheres showing through
Their sides:
They have become awakened in their
Echoes,
And set out in the innocuous fields
Of journey.
Rattlesnakes eat the rabbits that eat
The clovers,
And school buses drive around twice
A day:
The waves beckon; they seem to
Be doing something with the sky.
The baseball diamonds rest in the red
Clay,
As the insouciant cars drive by.