Pastoral

Your youth is gone

your life is over

years of cheer

reduced to this

A crumbling mess

on a September morn

I saw you there

Sioux City bound

In a cornfield

your blood flows by

like a meandering stream

bubbling

gurgling

brook-like

I saw you there

stinking

baking in the midday sun

hard on the outside

soft on the inside

(That's a nice contract)