Black coffee in a plastic cup.
The morning sun is waking up.
I flip the grill and scrub the plate.
The regulars all arrive late.
He is rusting by the telephone pole.
A lonely hound with a heavy soul.
Hiding where the pine needles fall.
Waiting for a long distant call.
Copper chain and a weathered coat.
A rusty bell and a ragged note.
He watches cars on the county road.
Carrying a heavy winter load.
Spatula clicks on the metal heat.
The diner smells of grease and wheat.
I see him there through the window pane.
Standing steady in the silver rain.
He is rusting by the telephone pole.
A lonely hound with a heavy soul.
Hiding where the pine needles fall.
Waiting for a long distant call.
Copper wire and a wooden fence.
The quiet here is getting dense.
He remembers how the forest felt.
Before the frozen winter started to melt.
I bring a scrap of leftover meat.
Walking slow on the gravel street.
He doesn't bark and he doesn't run.
Staring at the setting orange sun.
He is rusting by the telephone pole.
A lonely hound with a heavy soul.
Hiding where the pine needles fall.
Waiting for a long distant call.
Rust and pine, rust and pine.
Just a dog on a broken line.
Rust and pine.
