O Country

O Country,
how you permeate all things.

O Country,
how your fingers work the strings.

The words I say, the ways I think,
the things I crave to eat and drink.
The brazen views on ways of life,
the one I choose to be my wife,
and oh so much more.

O Country,
is my character my own?

Or Country,
am I just one of your clones?

To fight for inches, tooth and nail,
and hope for smoothness in my sail?
To knock and sell things door-to-door
to homes that shine, where flags do soar,
or am I maybe something more?