Trading Place and Time

Abandoned In the shadow of late afternoon swallows swirl round an unplowed field, dip beneath a gaping doorway to settle in a darkened hayloft. They have come on a southern breeze moving from the pine-strewn hills across undulations of wildflowers genuflecting like children to the sun. Beside the barn a split-rail fence leans against a lost memory when horses reared and bucked and drank deeply from the trough. Now in the heat of day wild roses climb the aging fence bees the sole companions for those who pass this way in search of quiet beauty.

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