THE OLD FARM
Collecting sad footsteps in the field
maybe a fortune in forgotten dusty carriages
in the old barn mice in the seat cushions
cobwebs stalls dry as dust
floating in streams of alternating sun
and shadow gray fences
undone horses all gone buried out back
I knew all their names
unmarked quarter-mile track
grown to weeds harness and tack
so brittle it breaks in your hand
only the willow is green and bends
there is no one here I knew
their names and all at once
we are gone or we are no longer young
the meaning of morning of sunsets
shifts it is autumn and I wait for that
pop full out suddenly wind and rain
the trees are bare
and we long for Spring
I ought to keep doing something
else but I’ve forgotten why
did I stop here where
did a whole day go why
is there always dark but
sometimes there is light