by Laura Gayle Green

Mountains, plains, salt water
Guitars, rough voices, Latin verse, grand piano on a concert stage
Worn jeans, bare feet, velvet skirts and taffeta petticoats
Educated, published, polished and sings the high lonesome
I walk between worlds
I speak many languages but can't quite find home
The borders of life are where you'll find me
At the gap in the mountain where the vantage changes
At water’s edge where the wet meets the almost-dry
The mountain ridge walking the edge and at times a foot goes to one side
A shuffled dance, avoiding commitment to one or the other 
But seeking the best of each, as none will claim me
Music rings round and round in my head, heart, and ears
"Wildwood Flower," "Chinese Breakdown," and "Sicut Cervus" 
Edges touch, turn, meet again
Mandolins, banjos, and fiddles call for a dance
So does the orchestra, the grand piano, the harpsichord
I walk between worlds
I sing many songs, few sound true
I sing what I want; I walk where I will
I seek the best of each, as none can claim me
I walk between worlds
The borders of life are where you'll find me