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.