Monday, April 6, 2009

the stone barn

it stands empty now
there are cracks
in the mortar between the fieldstones
set so carefully
by work roughened hands
now gone from this earth

i long to go inside
to run my hands over the timbers
seek out those places where
a shoulder or hand
brushed the wood smooth
touching it thousands of times
going about daily chores

perhaps i would find inside
a pile of musty hay
with just a sweet trace
of the smell of summer
still clinging there
snuggle down into it
and through half open lids
watch the dust motes float
on shafts of light

as I did long ago
in another barn
in another place
so many miles…
so many years gone by

1 comment:

  1. I am loving your poetry! Thanks for the kinds words at Babasfarmlife. It meant so much to me.