Once it sheltered babies,
smelled fried bacon and baking bread,
heard laughter and crying,
felt joy and sorrow,
within its rough-hewn rooms.
Time has not been easy on the house.
Foundation stones tumble and corners sag,
the tin roof is rusted through.
Only one thick board
keeps the porch attached.
The people left.
The windows shattered,
mice burrowed in its walls.
no longer home to man and child
today it's just a barn
But the farmer
patched its roof and shored the walls
to keep his golden haycrop dry.
He loads it full, stands back to say
"Now we're ready for the winter."