An Old Red Barn

Across from the big white farm house
The barn has been there for over 100 years
No longer used for hay or for horses
But maintained by one with the wisdom
to know that value comes not just from use

I saw him there one afternoon
While driving by so I stopped to talk
and see the barn, to get a closer look
He was proud to show me inside
To see the frames and beams that were joined
mortise and tenon, wood pinned, hand hewn
10 inch square, 8 inch square, 6 inch square

I smelled old wood and old hay and earth
As he spoke of the age and construction
And explained the old falls and the tackles
Used to lift and stack hay through the years
I saw love the for the barn in his eyes
And heard the respect in his voice
For those who had built and had used it
My quick stop became a long conversation
A conversation that led to a friendship

He bought clover hay back last summer
And broke down the bails in the loft
just because he loved how it smelled
Mourning doves had nests in the rafters
Blue morning glories were growing
All along the old stone foundation
With the daisies and Queen Anne's lace

Through the years outbuildings were added
To fit function but with an eye for aesthetics
That followed form and balanced the barnyard
I tried to capture this with my camera
But I just haven't got the right eye
It could better be shown in a painting

Well, that beautiful old red barn
Was burned to the ground last week
By children with cigarettes,
After standing over 100 years.
This was clearly not his fault
But it had happened on his watch
And that poor man's heart has been broken
So sad how his heart has been broken