Oak shade and cool-breeze tire swing
Arched out over the hay field,
Glimpses into the off-limits barn.
Boosted on grandfather horses, legs split wide.
Pioneers exploring, night made by lying back on
Warm haunches, short hairs prickling in mine.
White clapboard siding trimmed in forest green paint,
Trickling past my ears, bucket on my oft-warned head, when
Chased by my brother around the ladder.
Lilac tree-bushes screening the barn,
The work truck closing on my finger and
A heated needle pulling black-red drops from purple pulp.
The smell of sun-warmed cherries in flats.
Lowing cows, stamping horses deep inside the barn.
Chicken wire woven with feathers.
This is nice.
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Thank you!
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Sure, I’d love that. Sorry I missed your comment.
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This place sounds like a perfect writer’s get-away.
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Certainly it is in my mind!
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