They met where the south marched north,
where crosses sullenly blaze
and men shoot guns.

We drove in silent marvel down roads
where pigs mutter in front yards
and dead deer hang from the trees.

We were to turn at the town store, easy to miss,
disguised as post office and gas station.
The light was almost out of the day
when we finally found the church.
The glossy brown oak leaves
drained somber like the sky. (more…)