It is the eve of my birthday...

I spent the evening in the grass
Like I did when I was nine
Trimming in place of play
I ate a special meal, but skipped the pie
A documentary on 1864
Made me think of Georgia that July
And our most hallowed ground in Arlington
Where my father now lies
A lonesome whistle sounded a few miles away
As the evening train went by
It seemed the weeping wail of Johnny Cash
Was accompanying my Carolina prayer for my father
A choir of summer's insects joined the cry
To make it a lullaby
A strong full moon
Kept darkness' cell at bay
Long enough for a friend on the other side of the world
To send me an early birthday epistle
A reminder
That no life is lived in silence, solitude or darkness
Though the only evidence we know
Is a long lonesome whistle