A sense of old New England barns...

This writing was inspired by a christmas card that I saw in a store. I thought about the barn in the picture and how it reminded me of an anchor or lighthouse. It was a bit dilapidated from the winter's she had endured, but there was still majesty about the plain sense that she conveyed.This is my homage to her;


The Old, Red Barn
(An Homage)

There is an old, red barn,

somewhere–

amongst drifts deep– along

those winding, snow-buried, poet Frost’s roads;

usually in Vermont, traveled less,

that makes no claim to greatness.

In ‘the plain sense ‘of her– the burnt-brushed

wooden redness of her hues–

she speaks of times, some time ago.

Stoic upon a hill– woodshed not far off–

She sits, (anchored) perched with a view

a proud, taciturn farmer knows.

She invites those who may be cold

to come inside. She is the barn,

the farm, the wood-burning hearth

that keeps all things warm

in her rudolf-red rusting

New England glow.