calling for back-up

The South calls
with moss and bbq and shrimp boats
representing romance or reality
The journey will soon tell

But fog now envelops my vision
and the milky way promises
given by glowing firelight
seem taunting, shallow

In the shadowy murk
of forging calling alone
Kindreds are nowhere to be found
in these craggy hills

Many could sympathize
Few would share the burden
of crying out for sonorous life
in the midst of decay