Tobacco Barns in Mt. Sterling
grassy pastures peek inside dilapidated castles
silently pleading for protection
from threatening thunderheads above.
Wooden slats half-heartedly stave off
as clouds growl,
pour out frustration,
and leave in a huff.
After, sllivvery sunlight pays homage to the past.
Wrens fill the silence with songs of praise
for the battle-scarred keeper who guards
South’s once proud king.
The king watches in contempt as,
Mere miles away,
the Future races West
to conduct Big City Business
to worship at the pedicured feet
of the great Daniel Boone.
Here, though, time crawls,
Refusing to walk,
preferring the Present,
content just to be…
In the now…
Forever and ever,