Weak weathered barns remember fertile fields
and hay piled high to see the winter through;
with longing, they recall rich harvest yields
attesting to the bounty that once grew
where farmers worked the land with steely might.
What yearning they must feel for milking stalls
and horses neighing in the darkening night?
But life is ever-changing, filled with squalls.
Today these barns lie dormant, filled with dust;
their timbers rotting out and giving way.
Sad relics filled with implements of rust,
abandoned beacons left in disarray.
A picturesque portrayal of the past
succumbing to a life that couldn’t last.
© 2015 R. Mark Vincent
Photo by Peter Griffin (Public Domain)