Root Dwelling

I want to put my roots down

in a new primal dwelling

to live and be smelling

all that is aground

I want to walk fresh faced in the morning

to view the fog rising

To hear Hark the Harold rooster crowing

at first sight of ultraviolet light

I want to walk by browned, forgotten cornstalks

shoe tips wet from the dew of the vetch

Thinking of leopard frogs hibernating in the pond

and my childish self searching for ancient crinoids

burying my roots in the Tennessee soil

while hearing the hens a cackling as I saunter away

into a gold, orange, and brown carpet of hay

Leslie Camacho

I really want feedback on this. Thanks Prose readers!