[This poem was written sometime in 1968. It first appeared in my anthology, The Lady in the Pink Hat, Candor Press, 1969.]
The old red barn once stood proud Against the storm, paying Its own way with the Mail Pouch Sign, brimming with hay It staved winter's starving chill A vanguard of stubborn will. But now the storms have racked The bones and flailed the bloody flesh Torn away the shingles and Raked across the giant yellow letters, Letting in the cold and bitter air Left the rubble for the vacant stare.
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