Country Mourning

black oaks
pointed the way
to the old country road
overgrown
with thistle and dandelion
he stood among crickets
and inhaled sanctity in 
dawn's autumn air
abandoned
his burdens in socks and shoes
some twenty odd yards behind
where the old barn stood
echoes of Dixie and jazz
still resonating
through the corrugated iron sheets
in his fortress
a place he used to call home
long gone by now
it’s skeleton celebrating
beneath his toes, wriggling itself
into the fertile soil
like a good son
he scattered the old man’s ashes
among the autumn winds
along with faded memories
that came to settle
on the wings
of murderous crows
squawking, unwillingly 
ushered him back to the highway