Unaware the world has turned,
these keepers of past days move between
stalls in the old barn, seeping into cracked beams,
sweeping across rough-hewn floors, surveying acres
of woods just beyond and return to rest in the remnants
of hay there in the corner, dark and damp, until
they become one with spirits of horses that once lived here
Their love of this space permeates the air,
a heavy and somehow comforting fragrance
This is home




photo: mine
prompts: NaPoWriMo Day 2, Writer’s Digest April PAD Day 2