From Out of the Fog

by damommy

As the fog faded,
the old barn stood
like a ghost ship hove to
in verdant waves of grass.
It presented
with a rusty roof,
proof of its long tenure,
lo, these many years.
The hay bales still sat
where they’d been dropped,
and not a soul -
beast, fowl, nor man –
stirred.
Once a living part of farm life,
it’s been abandoned
to the ravages of time . . .
and no one knows its story.

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From Out of the Fog

by damommy

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