GOING HOME AT SUNSET

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Puffy clouds
Golden hued sunrays
Lengthened shadows
Late summer evening
Down on the farm
Cows gently mooed
Made for the barn
Day’s work done
A satisfied mind
Good night’s sleep
No worries
About tomorrow
Same as my father
Grandfather before
Going home at sunset

RURAL STILL LIFE

old barn junk

The years rolled their brutal course down the hill of time.   Still poor, my clothes still smelling of the horse barn, still writing those doubtful poems where too much emotion clashed with too many words.  –Paul Engle–

Like, bleached
Desert bones
Weathered
Barn boards
Framework
Stood, hardened
And, defiant
Sheltered
Basket stacks
Oak barrels
More, than
A few birds
Critters, of
Considerable
Variety