Securing the Gate at Dusk

For a long time, the old barn had quite a lean It was still shocking when it finally fell. When you came around the bend it was comforting to see it blushing in the sunlight. It was a great loss when it finally succumbed. If it could speak would it speak of great sacrifice or hardship and Goodtimes. Would it converse with antiques and machinery or the shadow of a barn cat and a frayed tire swing. The old farmer had quite a lean just before he past... don't believe he ever retired. He bounced up and down those dusty rows for half a century. There was a lot of wisdom and a sprinkle of secrets in that lean... a quiet ferocity coiled in those ancient-bronzed Mits. He lived through two world wars and fought in one. He served- fed and cleaned up the messes of the elite. He prayed over and buried everything that he loved.... The city slag still called him simple and backwards. There is something noble about an old farmer securing his gate at dusk.