The Old Men by Benjamin Nash

The blue heron in the dark pond,
tall pines, reminds me of the old
men, walking carefully, wearing
the beat up cowboy hat, a good
one for Sundays, getting up at
light to watch the beef prices,
going to bed when the sun goes
down, chewing tobacco, spitting
it into a coffee can, feeding the
cows in winter, cutting up the
pine, burning it down, growing
corn, tomatoes, beans, keeping
the rifle near the bed, knowing
how bad it was to use it, and
lifting, the blue heron, leaving,
slowly, men that worked on oil
rigs, cut lumber, grew cotton,
raised cattle, went to the city,
offices, the port, went to war,
men that were hard on their
kids, their wives, suffered in
the depression, were all about
values, men that saw us go to
space, saw Kennedy fall, and
now they are all gone, like the
cigarette, the smoke, is fading,
and the dark pond is now empty.