Documentary Narration
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (US Western)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
This poem was written by Badger Clark and it is read by Phil O. I've got a date with the sky today. The sun's got into my veins. Soul. Come on. Let's loaf and play. I've got a date with the sky today. Free in one breath to laugh and play. I've got a date with the sky today. It hissed through the shaking grasses, rushing and swirling by flailing the empty land under a an empty sky. And I looked out the window, a boy of six or so wondering where the wind came from and whether it all could go. I don't need no art exhibits when the sunset does her best. Payton never lasts in glory on the mountains to the west. And your Opry looks foolish when the night bird starts his tune and the desert silver mounted by the touches of the moon. It was good to live when all the so without no fence or fuss belonged in partnership to God. The government and us with skyline bounds from east to west and room to go and come. I love my fellow man the best when he was scattered. So when my trail stretches out to the edge of the sky through the desert so empty and bright. When I'm watching the miles as they go crawling by and are hoping I'll get there by night. Oh, Lord, I've never lived where churches grow all of creation better as it stood that day. You finished it so long ago and looked upon your work and called it good. Let me be easy on the man that's down. Let me be square and generous with all. I'm careless sometimes Lord when I'm in town, but never let him say I'm mean or small. The shadows lengthen to the east. The latter miles are slowly scored and here the long day work has ceased. You ask of profits and reward. Another year grows calmly old and frost is on the morning grass. The quaking aspens shed its gold. The mountain lake lies as still as glass when I shall top the last divide and journey down the other side. What vestige here on earth will be to prove that there was once a me, I dread the break when I shall die. Not from my human friends for they are shifting shadows such as I and soon will follow me away. But from my earth that still must swing from day to dusk, from dark to dawn, slow shimmering on from spring to spring through all the years when I am gone.