We probably won't get another shot at this

Our skies are turning yellow and they’re asking for more coal / my people of the blue-ridge hills / stand up / my people of the front porch swing / and too sweet tea / I used to plant acorns / hoping for a tree by mid morning / not a big one / I knew my limits / maybe a beech / or a pine / I wanted nothing more than to / breathe among giants / branches diving skyward / never breaching sky / reaching through the past / I can see a verdant split: a crossroad that will see me through / it’s green that I want and nothing more / give me green / and leave