Mount Moriah Road
Why that day was any different, we had no idea. We had walked to the creek hundreds of times, but never bothered to notice Carson’s farm, to consider the nooks and crannies of what was once someone’s life.
I see someone, no really, and other such mumbling.
The moaning echoed through our bodies, that pang of loneliness.
We knew, then, as we ached along with it, that no human produced such a wail. So we paused, there on Mount Moriah Road, wounded together. It would happen to us all, this deterioration. We couldn’t escape it. Nor could we soothe it.