Tumbledown Barn by DHMcCarty 11/17
He staked out his claim to this land years ago.
He ordered up lumber from Paul Gundersons mill,
rough hewn pine that had no need to see the plane.
Four walls to offer protection from predators
and a loft to store the bales that got him through the winter.
Farming can wear a man to the bone. Up at dawn
and working till the sun goes down.
No time to throw a ball with the boy
or cast a fishing line into the pond.
Love of the land is the only thing keeps him here.
The children learned to read at Miss Palmers school.
They learned to think for themselves,
the lessons they would take into adulthood.
They went off to war or college
and learned there were other ways to live.
Eventually the land was sold off until all that was left
was this rough hewn shelter and memories.
She had been here before. She chose memories
that would appeal to his eye, to his love of what was.
He captured light in a box, carrying home images to share.
He marveled at the way the sunlight slipped through
the cracks and waltzed across the stall doors.
She stood to the side as he clicked the shutter.
She watched his body wondering what ideas were dancing
pellmell in his head. Wondering if he thought of the farmer
pulling his wagon up to Gundersons Mill to collect
those rough hewn boards that were his future.
Wondering if he understood that slice of time
where a man and a woman staked their claim,
where she bore children and nurtured them for
their common dream until eventually they
found their own.
She took in the light that slipped through
cracks in rough hewn boards. But she was not
interested in capturing it for a future date. She clasped
her hand to her breast and imagined him turning to look into
her soul. To perhaps join her on a straw floor.
To talk over the present. To touch her cheek,
to capture the light in her eyes.
2
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1 comment
Feel free to reply to any comment by clicking the "Reply" button.Very nice! A good blending of past and present.
Tomfoolery33
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