Slower Days... Poem by Connetta Jean

The old Cabin door
reminded me
of slower days....
a time of sowing
and reaping...
when a home
was simply
a place to eat..
a place to sleep..
a shelter from
the rain and snow...
when a house was built
by trees in the way
of homes & barns
graden plots
and chicken coops...
Where tiny nuts
grew on the trees
left for shade..
& A faint smell
of jellys & jams
seemed to fill
the emptyness
as blackberrys ripened
in a summer's sun
near the back door....

all poems psted by me was written by me