The Old Homestead Poem by james watkin
The Old Homestead
Hanging off the edge of Time
At road's extremity;
Long; long out of use.
Through shade of gnarled tree, bends.
Juniper's; as dark-timbered;
To die; does too refuse.
Sagging; creaking. Through whose light
Autumn's, retrospective
Poignant-felt does fade.
Atop fence post, weary-lent
What through wind, wearier
Life's lone rant; rook-made.
Thursday, October 1, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: home,old
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4/24/2024 11:36:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
