The Bread Man is Dead by Bill Frank Robinson

Long before the dusty path had a name
Long before the road was paved
There was the Bread Man

Winter and summer he tended
His yard and greeted passers-by
With a smile and hello

Friday mornings he made
His rounds
Delivering bread and news
To his customers
Old and new

He died in the ancient trailer
He called home
He will be buried on
The desolate hillside
South of town
Friends and relatives will come

Some from half-way
Around the world
Back to their ancestral home
Back to the burial grounds
Used since time began
A soldier from the
Iraq war will demand
And receive leave to
Attend the funeral
Of the only father
She ever claimed
She will give the eulogy
Lead the cry-dance
The dance around the fire
Each dancer tossing
The Bread Man's clothes
Into the fire
Then the Bread Man Of Pa Ha Lane
Will be no more

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