Julie Rosenfield

My journal

THE BARN (POEM)

Old barns like this don’t fall down in a day

Neglect, storms and the dreaded beetle

Eat away at the rafters

Piecemeal.

But rafters can be repaired

Their ends scarfed

As they live to fight another day.

* * *

 Seasons-old timber can be replaced

Hewn from heavy lumber

Its willing labourers weary

So swiftly drafted in

That long collaborative summer

 * * *

Even that fire with the scorching, burning straw

Singed this wall but could not defeat.

Its occupants safely evacuated

What a flutter from the hens that night

 * * *

The crooked gambrel roof

The painted red-and-white trim

The hayloft bursting with wholesome grain

Signs that should say home

And all are safe within

* * *

And in this corner,

A faded blue overall

Muddy, streaked and torn

Forgotten until now

And yet forever precious

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