You Are Your Promised Land

we drank Black and Tans against
the old-forest night
like a lost tribe, without
toaster ovens or fix-a-flat
or the notion of instantaneous
and we moved slowly
on the down beat, and for
a moment I gave praise to
Jah who had delivered us
to Zion, looking down
from the mountain top,
the trees were towers and
the air was thin enough
that you could almost forget
it was even there