Keep Shoveling

Old haggard man on a rock

Sitting next to shrubbery

A crooked tree, 

And tombstones three

He's got a spot dug for an appointment.

Pebbles gripped 

Locked arthritic hips

He pondered in a casket hole,

A restless gaze

He'll be dead in ten days,

Road kill for the vulture. 

Brush the dirt

Then fold the coat

The wind bone murderous chill.

Raise from stone,

Dig some more

To hide the problems, that he'll fill.