The Barn

Original Poetry written by Tamara Chicoine

The seasons worked together

to bring down the old barn,

not in a sudden way

rather a slow methodical way.

Winter's weighted white snow

accumulated on roof timbers with premeditation,

while horses and cows sheltered in wooden stalls

snorted mist from frosted nostrils.

Summer sun's charring hands stretched across

apple red barn boards on blue sky afternoons.

Thunderstorm rain slipped between trusses, and drip,

dripped, as children played hide-and-seek among straw bales

stacked like yellow Legos in the barn.

The man worked to keep the barn in good repair

taming each unruly board with a sharp disciplined nail.

His wife lay a think blanket of red paint,

to put to sleep the curling, ageing paint

under her firm, motherly hand.

In time, the seasons weathered the man and woman too.

Skin dappled with sunspots,

wrinkles etched into brows and cheeks

as if painted from an artist's skilled hand.

Tired backs, stooped shoulders, arthritic hands

that held steel hammers and a garden's harvest bounty.

The seasons continued to give and take,

one year at a time.

Then the barn was alone.

The man, his wife gone, the children grown.

Their Calico kittens curled up in the hay only a memory now.

The seasons kept at it, board by board,

from red to deepened grey, the barn grew weary

until one winter storm it collapsed

with a final breath, surrendering.

But the seasons were kind, respectful,

leaving small trinkets and belongings

so that the barn, the man, his wife and children

would not be forgotten.

A tin cup, a leather glove, a tarnished hair pin,

a rusted toy car, a black eye from a stuffed bunny,

a leather horse halter, slivers of a glass milk bottle,

nails, timbers, laying obediently among swaying tall grasses, resting in the sun

then blanketed tenderly by winter snow.

The seasons claimed them,

whispering their stories among willows

in hushed breezes.

Reverence.

An original Poem written by Tamara Chicoine `