Deserted Farm                                                

 

 

                                       By Mark Vinz
 

Where the barn stood

the empty milking stalls rise up

like the skeleton of an ancient sea beast,

exiled forever on shores of prairie. 

 

Decaying timber moans softly in twilight;

the house collapses like a broken prayer.

Tomorrow the heavy lilac blossoms will open,

higher than the roofbeams, reeling in wind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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