Poem: of Broken Barns

Of Broken Barns

You enter the clearing and see the small barn,
it's slate roof sagging,
it's walls twisted,
each window gazing in different directions,
a building so twisted,

so worn with age
and battered by the cold New England winds,
so broken by time's cruelty,
that it has no right to stand, and yet

it does, shelter still
from rain and snow,
it's black potbelly stove holds fire
and heat, like love,

always fueled from within,
a warmth belied
by the broken exterior
that is all you see,

unless you look past peeled paint,
beyond the half rotted clapboard,
past all appearances,
and in.

==============

This wonderful little barn, all warped and sagging, is one of my favorite buildings in Dorset, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom