Looking east in the morning sun. A junkyard filled with rusted out Chevys, broken down Dodge, Fords with floorboards busted out, old pickup trucks split in two, a chained pit bull barks.

The old man sits there on a step eating cornbread and milk. A cup of coffee is next to him. His teeth are missing. He sings the song I’ll Fly Away in a baritone voice. He can’t pronounce the words so he hums most of it.

Morning dew covers junk out back in the yard. Radiator caps and tail pipes on the ground. Torn milk crates and buckets of screws, bolts, nuts, and wing nuts mixed together spill over onto a blue plastic sheet. Dog shit everywhere.

Sifting through junk, a metal cross is found by a young Mexican kid looking for a rear view mirror. He picks it up and holds the silver piece up to the sun. Says something in Latin. Ends by saying Amen and crossing himself . He carries the cross to the old man. How much? he asks. The old man looks at it carefully. Waves his hand. Says, you owe me nothing. The Mexican nods his head. Says bless you in Spanish and walks out. The dog looks at him in silence.

I’ll fly away old glory….I’ll fly away, the old man hums. I’ll fly away. When I die Hallelujah by and by….I’ll fly away….