The barn remembers

Late afternoon,
and the sun paints golden bars,
imprisoning the old red barn
in light
while inside
sparrows flutter and dream
and ancient voices
echo in the rafters:
sounds of children
playing with kittens in the hay,
farmers milking,
cattle huffing and mooing,
horses stamping,
eager to run across the wide field.
Still now,
but for the mice and birds,
the barn remembers, and glows.


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