Shadows and Dust by Marleen Bussma

The country road is fading, but the mem’ries hover clear.

They circle ’round then settle at the farmyard waiting near.

The barn now stands exhausted with a sagging roof that’s weak.

A busted door hangs open wide as if inclined to speak.

The endless years without a paintbrush add to its decline.

Worn, weathered wood’s been pummeled to a polished, pewter shine.

The horse stalls stand abandoned. Faint smells linger in the air

with ties to thoughts of names that were good friends and times we’d share.

The wind has never left. It stayed behind where it grew old.

It peels the land and shapes it with a heartless hand that’s cold.

A gust resuscitates the windmill from its lethargy.

It squeaks an old familiar greeting then it gyrates free.

The lonely stock tank stands nearby. It offers only scum.

It waits to serve the thirst of cattle that will never come.

A nearby hay fence to the west has staggered to its knees.

Gray rotted posts released the wires that reach out to the breeze.

Our dreams were drained here; still we saved tradition and our roots.

Courageous hearts and toughness found a better life that suits.

Our story’s carried on the wind. It wails and sounds bereft.

The next storm will take down failed hopes that generous time had left.