Barn

There is a condemned barn
Painted red as so many barns are
Off and to the West.

Next to the barn is a house that is white
It belonged to Ronnie's brother.
Ronnie is my neighbor
And is 91 years old.

He knows he is old
And knows his brother is dead
And knows I poke around inside
And Ronnie's ok with that.

I walk the land each day
Knowing I will die here
That Ronnie will die
Within a hundred yards.
We all die.

An orange Tabby crossed the road
And was killed by a car
One eye popped out
I moved him from the blacktop
I moved his eye too, to the deep grass 
Where the turkey vultures found him
Filling.

The wind tonight is flapping the tin roof
Of the barn and making me stay off a bit
While looking up at the dipper in the Northeast
And crunching through the snow
Covering the meadow.



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