Roadside Barns

We drove in a downward slope,
cats tonguing our winter coat with one long
lick around snowy roads.

Threaded between bramble, barns house the secret
narratives of animals setting forth on missions —
the tale of mice and mavericks.

These chalky, sedated skies spill like medicine,
when I lay hot with fever and mystery, to
when seasons held their breath,

releasing night into howl, curling lines
to show icy exhales, the strummed
language of plucked fruit and wild birds.

I viewed the dilapidated wood, crooked hinges,
birds nesting into high corners in a warm refuge
of twigs, my mind fighting off the hollow and chill,

holding onto the echo of turned pages from
children’s books, knowing country barns are
better viewed roadside.


20 thoughts on “Roadside Barns

      1. Heartafire

        I was raised partly (summers) on my grandparents farm, they had old barns, a tobacco barn…that was fascinating with it’s rows and rows of tobacco handing in their from floor to ceiling! Yes, tobacco, what we now know kills millions a year around the world.

  1. Phil Ryan

    I called by and read this the other day and couldn’t work out what it was about. So after several reads I made a tactical withdrawal, under the shadow of anonymity, only to return today and announce my arrival by tripping over one of those brambles and make an idiot of myself.
    It’s about a barn!
    In my defence that opening line does convey images from recent news stories…. Or maybe I’m straw clutching, soggy ones from a hole in the roof. How to go from resplendent to despondent in two easy comments…

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