Old Man Cox

Old man Cox lived the next farm over
Every once in a while, he would bust open
His front door, run out on the porch
And let out a whoop, holler, or yell
At the top of his lungs
Nobody knew why
Maybe he didn’t even know why
I guess sometimes an old lion
Just needs to hear himself roar
Sometimes at night
He would build a big fire
Out in his back yard
And he would dance around it
Like a heathen worshiping his god  
In a trance-like state
As if he were seeing visions,
Hearing voices and like
He was knowing things
That can’t be known,
Dancing and dancing
Around the magic of the fire
A glorious sight.
He would breathe in
A deep breath
Of cool night air
And let it tingle
In his lungs
Before he heaved it out
As if it would let him know
He was still alive.
Then as the night wore on
He would begin to sing
A haunting song
With his untrained voice,
Like an incantation
To spirits unseen.
It was a sad song,
A tribute to his life,
In words unintelligible,
More of a moan
For his trials and tribulations.
A song that expressed a pain
That only comes from a longing
For the things that would never be.
And at the end to his trail of tears
He would give a chant of praise
Because he had kept the faith,
He was a survivor,
Filled with hope and joy,
Not fear and doubt.
He had been kept from the hour
Of temptation and he was strong
There by the blazing fire.
Though he has now since passed
Some years ago,
I have not forgotten
About old man Cox.
And I can still hear him
From time to time
Whoop and shout
The memory of him
Comes to me unexpected,
And I can see him
Out there in the dark of night
Still dancing by the fire
The reflection of flames
Flickering in shades of orange
On his face
Singing and dancing
Long into the night