Abandoned Barn

Ambling along a country lane, a weathered barn caught my eye. Nigh it stood a crumbling silo, yet reaching for the sky. Oaks raised leafless arms heavenward, on that bleak autumn day, As if in supplication, pleading to deter its inexorable decay. The once sturdy structure was now in forlorn shambles, Nearly over taken by tall grasses, weeds and brambles. On its weathered boards were traces of faded reddish paint. A Mail Pouch Tobacco mural graced one side, tho' very faint. Atop the sagging roof was a rusted, squeaky weather vane, Turning listlessly at the whim of the fickle wind's gust or wane. A lightning rod, even in its day, considered somewhat odd, Had collapsed - its copper pinnacle buried beneath the sod. Rusty hinges protested as I opened the door and ventured thro'. I startled a flock of pigeons, creating bedlam as they flew! Mice skittered across the floor in the dimly filtered light, As they raced about in confusion in their frenzied flight! What once had sheltered cattle and stored the farmer's grain, Was the hapless prey of the lashing storms' complete disdain. For such old abandoned barns, I have a very special affinity, And enjoy visiting them whenever I am in their vicinity! Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)