Crow’s Nest, Andalusia, Alabama: poems by Michael Shoemaker

wild daffodils, image by Erika Varga, on Pixabay

Crow's Nest, Andalusia, Alabama

No daffodils in the driveway of this BBQ spot.

There's a 4-year-old toddler who blurts out,

"A happy day to you," every time the front door squeaks open.

Order 12 comes up, and she chirps,

"Number 12, Southern Belle, Number 12, Southern Belle, NUMBER 12, SOUTHERN BELLE!"

and who knows why, other than it’s the same reason bluebells peek out early in spring,

their own form of down-home music.

Grandma says grace over two generations

and as she says amen, I feel amens skip across time

like smooth rocks across a mirror of lake and space touching all ancestors, all descendants

changing something today with love forever.

She talks to the toddler during her sweet-smelling Q sauce lunch

with a "your daddy this” and “your daddy that."

I was convinced he was a true daddy tsunami

that could take on the whole Crimson Tide.

There are two guys talking "backhoe"

that know a thousand words more about backhoes than I do.

The next time one breaks down

I know right where to go.

A young man who orders the spicy Redneck Nachos

worries about entering basic training in the military.

The 80-year-old lady at the counter talks deep and low,

something only he can hear.

The young man says, "Yes, ma'am," then “No, ma'am,” and "Yes, ma'am" again.

He walks away with a sturdy step.

I know I’m in the United States by the red, white, and blue Pepsi-Cola sign.

I know I’m in Alabama because the orders for sweet tea

come so fast and fluent, you wonder if it’s its own separate language.

There are two signs right next to one another, a double-header sermon.

One quips, "Hell is Truth seen five Seconds Too Late..."

The other says, "As God opens the door, may I have the courage for the battle."

God, are there BBQ places in heaven?

It's ok, I think I know.

I doubt You will mind the crunch-crunch of gravel in the front yard.

Maybe there is room for daffodils in the driveway.

The potato salad is to die for.

Andalusia is a great place for a game of dominos.

*

found

alone

praying

sweet

presence

beg

forgive

release

tears

Your touch

makes

whole.

no more

bag reclaim

for me

___________________________

Michael Shoemaker is a poet and photographer from

Magna, Utah. He is the author of three poetry / photography collections including Sacred Strains of Praise, winner of a 2025 ChristLit Award. He’s received two Artist Career Development grants from the Utah State Division of Arts and Museums, is a three-time nominee for Best of the Net (poetry and photography), and a Pushcart Prize nominee. Michael’s poems appear in Boundless 2025 and 2024: The Journal of International Poetry Festival of the Rio Grande Valley and Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku, (Literary Revelations) #1 Amazon bestseller new release (Haiku & Japanese Poetry). Michael has been awarded a residency through Woolf Cottage Writer-in-Residence Program sponsored by

the Fairhope Center for the Writing Arts in Fairhope, Alabama, for October 2025. He is the associate editor of Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal at Missouri Baptist University. More of his work can be found at: https://michaelshoemaker.crevado.com/ 

(April 2026 issue)