Down A Long Road
We must find something forgotten by everyone alive
William Stafford, "Watching The Jet Planes Dive"
And I remember the barn's side door
That no one ever used, the old mare's
Horseshow nailed over it for good luck
When hers had run out, the threshold
Stone cracked deep from countless winter
Heaves and spring thaws. How each year
A little more moss covered the bottom,
Its warping and gapping from the frame,
And how the rain, always asking to enter,
Left its gray handprints on the old wood
As it weathered, red stains of hinge rust.
The wearing away of years until all that
Is left of us now is beautiful heartwood.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 1242 times
Written on 2015-11-13 at 14:34
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