Rot
It is a slow rot
that brought you to this place,
each flake of pain silently falling
unnoticed
until your walls were raw and exposed,
your windows,
broken in the wind,
the weather no longer held at bay
but let in
to the floors, the beams,
all hidden,
all rotting,
all happening so slowly
no one notices
until finally the roof bows and falls,
or
someone arrives, dedicated
to restoration.
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The picture was taken down the road from in in West Pawlet. You can click on it for a larger version.
Tom
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