Blues

Heavy blues,

Day at its edge,

Closing in.

 

Sweat beading

On the brow,

A life wandering

Around the

Rising corn.

 

Endless pavement,

Trains following

Cracked lines,

Bitter roots

Poking through.

 

Fallen from the

Storming heavens,

Trudged along

In the

Drunken mists

Of mortal

Crusts caking

Lonesome

Shuffles of shoes.

 

Beaten through,

God at the

Stoniest backside,

The church a final

Trusted passage.

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