And Now For A Poem

Across the Forever Sky (07/08/2010)


The barn caught fire in the middle of the night,
the flames, high enough to top the tree lines,

you could see that warm orange glow for miles,
it's rafters wrapped in yellow arms, engulfed;

Their noses perked at whiffs of burning wood,
they might recall a memory of an autumn night,
the cool darkness full of its smokey evidence
of some hidden warmth nestled to the hearth

of souls that gather 'round; Burning with awe.

The barn ignited in the drought of a dead summer
as markets were closing along the dusty road
to some other land, that was full, that was fresh,
by long strides of a whispering sun, sipping doom,

etching itself out along the course of all our hope,
where this land once provided to us, existence,
betrayed in those autumn nights, sheparding ill,
and the echoes of much deliberation and screams;

the barn was now a vibrant crimson red, lashing
its forked tongue tendrils across the forever sky.



By Andrew James Trudeau