Mist rising between the wet, black bark of the pines;

Neon lights flooding lonely gas stations;

Chipping graffiti on the corner of a dive bar;

Skeletons of old bridges echoing with babies' cries;

Spectral headlights shuddering in the roadside grass;

Bales of rotting hay sinking into silent, yellowing pastures;

The tattered label of a beer bottle tangled in the wild rye;

Highway signs screaming self-improvement in black numbers and flat smiles;

The gaze of a hundred seagulls watching the storm rolling in.