Red Mud

On one dismal Saturday morning
John Mudder found his neighbor
face-down beneath the frown of
an ominous sky, condemned
before endless stretches of soggy
corn fields. Dead on borrowed property,
done in by debt and deluge,
he laid next to his rifle in a pool of red mud.
The LAND giveth, and the LAND taketh away;
cursed is the ground because of you.
Mr. Mudder called the farmer’s wife,
and they waited and wept by his side
as an ambulance spun down
the sloppy country road.