Echoes escape from an old barn,
are carried by the wind across
the meadow,beyond the hilltop
into a neighboring valley.
Inside,the hayloft is devoid of hay;
no pitchfork,hoe nor shovel hangs
on the wall,no cow nor horse stands
in a stall,paws at hard ground.
Only artists find beauty here
beneath the peeling paint,windows
open to the wind,wild roses
clinging to images long past.
the artist wills them back to life
with brush strokes firm and far reaching.