to eustace

eustace,
you're gone!

gentle of heart,
softspoken,
salt of the earth,
american, south carolina, man

red and auburn,
yellow green and brown
was your deciduous way of life

trees hiding secret trails,
hidden creeks
hiding copper stills and corn mash

eustace,
you were the sounds of iron spoked wheels
turning under moonlight

eustace, man, you're gone!
why did God take you now
so soon?

the trails are blank,
the night owl silently perches,
he just stares as if he knows
why you died
he stares to the wail of the distant wolf

your draft horses hang their heads heavy in the barn
all things in your homestead are downcast
my heart is broken like the rusted spring steel saw blade hanging on the peg

i wanted to meet you, eustace
and shake your hand,
to feel your warm blood
under your callused grip
and help you fell your timber
and help you make more planks and fix what was broke

and watch you watch the stars come out
over the oakwood fire
and light another smoke,
to a swig of yet another whiskey
and another tale with another laugh

i wanted to greet you
by your centuries old barn
and smell the grey earth there
and hear the meadow lark
by your coal forge
in the morning shadow,
waiting for your booted print
to cast another set of rounds
next to the iron anvil
and hear it ring again
to the swing of your hallowed hammer,
the one your great, great granddaddy made of sand forged iron
attaching it to a carved hickory handle
that never broke, even once to this day
and you never lost any of your tools

eustace, i miss your voice,
your grey, swept back thick, coarse hair with loose tassels at your temples

your humble, unassuming ways
that made the proud banker blush,
when he came to claim your land, that you worked hard to keep

but it made your heart quit,
you'd rather die than lose it,
you many times said,
and you did,
my friend!