The County Seat Poem by James McLain

Powerless; and deep inside
and that which is, I covet it too parts.
You open up,
too hide it out some more.
What brought about,
such full cups, your power
and control as if it was before.
The bee flies as if it's drunk and
dropping off the other sides thin edge.
Upside down on it's back, it's wings
splayed out,
stuck in all the honey it once made.
and up the path the milk maid
comes each buckets full
her hair pulled back, those hands.
and great limbs hang down from
old great oaks,
there beards now sweep the ground.
and up the hill and winding round
sits one reason,
that each season, ever comes at all.