Beauty In the Wind
On the rise of a hill, overlooking the bend
Where the old gravel road, seems to narrow and blend
Stands your bony remains, weathered timber and nails
Posing regal contentment, without praise or complaint
Lacking attention, but for birds and the rain..
Leaning slightly in back, from the north to northwest
Squeaking a bit, from a past of neglect
It clings to the wind, to a past that has spent
The years have abused you...
No longer called useful?
I beg to reply...I think you are beautiful
Strong beams held you strong
Your day's work was done
When the wind caught your breath
and death came with drought, where doubt found a home
Now the birds make their home on the wings of your song
Pride came from the hands that came to erect
Hammered a nail with faith's dedication
Placing each board, with hope and conviction
A wheel, standing regal, a workhorse with fervor
Once brought new life, from the depths of a river
The years have abused you...
No longer called useful?
I beg to reply...I think you are beautiful
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