The Barn In My Rear View Mirror
Patchwork quilt of a metal roof,
with a hip-shot lean to the left.
Boards, weathered, to a storm cloud grey,
with remnants of red in the cracks.
Generations, hub of the farm.
If only the old barn could talk.
From its birth, in a barn raising,
lumber from a family saw mill.
Mares with foals, town dances and plows.
Hay in the loft and moonshine.
Sign of the times, acres were sold,
but the old red barn is stubborn.
It may be swaybacked in its spine,
yet, its rugged beauty is ageless.
~Nancy ~ 346/365