Red Barn

Once it was colored an autumnal red
now it is a russet prop for the sunset.

The land has stacked evening around it,
mellow dusks have laid down decades,
of plowed-up shadows.

Seen against an ebbing horizon,
the barn blooms beyond its timbers,

its fading form fills-in the blush
of a half-painted sky.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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