ABANDONED HOUSE, BUFFALO MOUNTAIN:

a sad, abandoned country house
withers upon it's tiny hill,
what once protected, now is open,
and winds blow over broken window sills;

deeded now to bird and mouse,
to spiders and to who-knows-what,
sagging porch and empty rooms,
a kitchen wall with grease still spattered

from someone's long-past breakfast,
beside this crumbling kitchen door
children played and pattered,
laughter, cries, -- prayer-- used to fill this air,

No more.

ancient glass fragments, and
something like putty on the floor,
a frying pan, pieces of a shattered crock,
and --did someone throw it?-- a rock.

outside, a rusted plow, and this rubble
that might once have been a wagon,
nearer the house, lesser artifacts:
a medicine bottle, a shoe,

like the kin of those who strove here
-- scattered.

sunset and sadness come
as I stand among the runes,
trying to honor
something that mattered.