I walk this dusty road
As I have a thousand times before
Ruts as deep as a dog is tall
Scar the earth
Where tires succumbed
To gumbo mud
And funeral processions
crossed prairie hills
to lay him to rest
where the grasses hiss and undulate in the dry wind
and a storm can be seen coming
hundreds of miles away
and I wait
wait for the cloudburst
to soak my soul
and hide the tears
and make the walk home
much harder
as shoes are reclaimed
by the ruts.