“to the comets that missed this place
in their hot pursuit of infinity.”
From “Postcard from Lisbon”,
a poem by Joseph Brodsky
romping in the hay
chasing the barnyard rooster
spring-time, summer-time play
returning the stare of bovine gawkers
watching the milking of the cows
barn swallows diving in and out
looking in on the sow,
suckling piglets, milky snouts
after the garden-hoeing chores
splashing water at the cistern
riding astride the working horses
playing hide and seek taking turns
wheat fields heaving in the wind,
chickens scratching around the corn crib bin,
digging worms for fishing,
all my brothers antics
barn-weathered boards
framing today’s memories
of rustic times restored,
barnyard reveries.
Ben Gieske
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/barnyard-memories/
