Leaning

Leaning

Leaning to the wayside

Years of wind

Pushing

Pushing against the pressure of manmade dreams

Sweating in the sage he hammers his nails

Drives his posts into the ground of tomorrow

Knotted oaks of manifest destiny

America before the lines were drawn

His lonely woman breaking her back for him

The kids play barefoot on earthen floors

Butchered the best horse to make it through winter

Their nails still bloody

Out there on the mountain the cows bay

Moans like wind ghosts whispering against the grain

Will the years stand up to this house?

Or will the erosion of tragedy plummet this fibered vison

Leaning

Leaning against the weight of the world

A hundred years later the bodies are gone

Buried under cow patties and dinosaur clavicles

Splinters holding hands

Standing tall but

Leaning like an old god bullied by mighty giants