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