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Fallow

How it climbs,
The tree, above the fallow field
Where once a farmer plowed
Abundant lands.
How high
The long dead branches
Stretch to meet the sky.
It's singed trunk
Scarred white on the side
Where once a farmhouse stood.
Now a pile of ash
And timbers lay,
Scattered at the foot
Of a crumpled barn,
Half ash itself.
A bird,
A tiny swallow,
Alights on the topmost branch of the tree
Singing of what once was,
But only the wind is left to here.
The rest is gone,
Taken late one winter's night
In an accident,
A sudden burst of flame.





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This article has 6 comments. Post your own now!

gossimergrrl said...
Jan. 29, 2012 at 4:20 pm
Beautiful and sad.
 
EPluribusUnum This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jan. 29, 2012 at 4:24 pm
Thank you :)
 
babyrex4 said...
Jan. 26, 2012 at 1:46 pm
I love the imagery in this poem. I could just close my eyes and feel the beauty of the poem. Please keep writing!
 
EPluribusUnum This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jan. 26, 2012 at 2:14 pm
Thanks! :) :)
 
Kimberlywrites said...
Jan. 21, 2012 at 8:13 pm
The way you told the story of this house is so touching. Every word holds so much meaning. I especially love the descriptive adjectives which allow me to envision the scence perfectly.
 
EPluribusUnum This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jan. 26, 2012 at 9:21 am
Thank you!
 
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