Wind shakes Crowe road's one mailbox,    
scatters three letters marked return to sender.    
Morning sun, a nicotine stain.   
November air solvent sharp.    
    
The sky lengthens its pedal steel note.     
From the woods, a blue howl echoes off key.    
A fence post sleepwalks in place,   
shaking its spent twelve pack head.     
    
By a twisted pink headband, dented cans    
lie together, dampen the grass.    
Fresh silver spray paint streaks asphalt,   
J Bo + Kell 4 Ever.    
    
Two deer scour oak roots,    
savor the late fallen fruit. 
At the road's end, trash 
smoke licks the thicket.