One day soon, think I'll retire
ride out and listen to the broomweed choir
in a church where I'm the only member
and the preacher, once a fire, is a dying ember

Where when summer comes, the sun sears down
copperheads coil and owls leave ground
Drought dries up collectionplate hope
scant now as the antelope

Ushers here are new spring grasses
mesquite unruly in crevasses
The organ here is a bent windmill
the piano solo a whippoorwill

When winter falls, the earth turns gray
the bobcat works its silent way
But for brittle breeze this choir's a muffle
a distant ruffle of quail in shuffle

The thistles? They're a nodding crowd
at a preacher who's, for once, not loud
And as the preacher preaches in a silent hiss
he reminds how much he thinks we'd miss

If we went to a church full of godly people
with a building proud and a gilded steeple
Who'll ne'er know the strains of the horse mint's sigh
or revel in a dulcet coyote's cry

One day soon, think I'll retire
ride out and listen to the broomweed choir
In a church where I'm the only member
and the preacher, once a fire, is a dying ember

Don't bury my heart at Wounded Knee
or ship my bones to Tennessee
Just put me in a cedar box
surround my corpse with gas-soaked socks

Thence set me off and burn me down
call all my kin and friends around
You could say that it's old fashion
but scintillation is my passion

Thence some time later, when it's warm
transport my ashes to the farm
to a sacred place just a few folks know,
those who with me there did go

Thence wait for that prevailin' wind,
that sheet of rain that salves the skin,
that nearby rustle o' bluestem grasses,
that red-tailed hawk a-makin' passes

Let God's own humor course your veins
and funny thoughts from my remains
Just one last time, o' me, make sport
It is, you see, your last resort

Thence when all signs say time is right
Hurl forth my ash with all your might
and sigh, indeed, whence day is done
that this ol' boy, he shore had fun