Sketch of a Country Burial

I went where the wind blows,
Cool sod my last bed
Sweet blowin’ winds then laid down in the prairie-grass and the wide orange sky tucks me in.
Not far away a trains-a-howlin’ 
Singin’ me a last lullaby 
Accompanied by the souls of 1,000 rail-road hobos
Crooning their dusty blues.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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