Backyard Burial

I find my soul lifted high in the air between the cracking roads of Jasper and steeples secluded in Madison. I'm reminded of a funeral as thudding rhythms stomp at my anxious temples. The honey lights of noon broke through the streets and passed in between the silver crowned homes. Dylan and Baez play to the whispering rays of sun coursing down on my crawling character. I could stare forever into the darkness, drowned in amber; listening to Miles Davis play to the tune of dreaming. In overgrowth, limping away from the water, I'm rotting like a dead animal on the shoulders of a country highway. The ivy climbed over the hills and became somehow a shelter to hide in. Somewhere to live. Secluded. Somewhere to live. Secluded in restlessness.