In ninety or so days –
I will be right alongside the remainder.
Reminding myself, of this day and my age.
It hasn’t been that long before;
And it won’t be that long again –
Till the crow calls in the morning.
Black and blue
Split lip –
Bruised yet again –
I cannot abide.
Lemme get my shovel ma.
Don’t you worry now, ain’t nobody gonna miss
That sad sack.
Gotta go till them fields now.