The Day Loretta Lynn Died

A train crashed into the night people watched under closed eyelids. I made coffee like I always do. I sat down to drink it like I usually do. Have I really ever clearly seen anything? Did you ever grow a mustache thick and tough enough to singalong? Coal miners are drinking the last rays of a sooty sun. Mind wanders, but her voice was always rooted in a song strong enough to be hard baked in any earth oven. I might find a way out of whatever funk I’m in, or stagger through the way country singers do. Happy trails darlin.