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After arguing
In the evening we came to agreement
as a barn owl to a barn.
Poems on the topic: barn
Poems on the topic “barn” on Poets.by.
Farmer
Home and barn in the evening.
I walk the fields, now all in dirt—
a magnificent supper.
The Hollow (17)
where we fought many
a rotten tomato battle
common snakeroot
lawn and gardens gone
back to meadow
the buildings’ straight lines
no more turning
even the electric meter
is digital now
barn that once
housed an elephant
its great grey-green roof
The Need of Being Versed in Country Things
The house had gone to bring again
To the midnight sky a sunset glow.
Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,
Like a pistil after the petals go.
The barn opposed across the way,
That would have joined the house in flame
Had it been the will of the wind, was left
To bear forsaken the place’s name.
No more it opened with all one end
For teams that came by the stony road
To drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs
And brush the mow with the summer load.
The birds that came to it through the air
At broken windows flew out and in,
Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh
From too much dwelling on what has been.
Dense Night Fog
dense night fog
the clear space around
an old barn
How She Knows
How she knows she is not useless yet:
Old cornstalks must be shattered right
Where they stood green, to feed worms
She knows are waiting in darkness.
Her hens wait too, for water, for feed,
Especially for deadnettles, nipplewort,
Kale and comfrey. Some hummingbirds
Now arriving check the lilac for their
Own nectar bottle that hung there
While last spring, summer and fall
Slipped past. There are wasp queens
She finds sleeping in her woodpile;
Her heart skips a beat as she sees
Each one, for she fears them, yet
Interests herself in their rest and
Safety, for the good they do her garden.
Message of the Barn-Swallows
Between granite and sky occurs
the culture of a barn—
a parliament of odors,
treaties of seed.
Every one of those barn-swallows
transports a secret word
under its wing until at dusk
a statement gathers—
a large calling
with accents of loam. Day
utters this immense phrase
to night. The message
concerns entirety.
Beyond the Barn
I rose up with the sun
And climbed the hill.
I saw the white mists run
And shadows run
Down into hollow woods.
I went with the white clouds
That swept the hill.
A wind struck the low hedge trees
And clustering trees,
And rocked in each tall elm.
The long afternoon was calm
When down the hill
I came, and felt the air cool,
The shadows cool;
And I walked on footsore,
Saying, "But two hours more,
August
She'll come at dusky first of day,
White over yellow harvest's song.
Upon her dewy rainbow way
She shall be beautiful and strong.
The lidless eye of noon shall spray
Tan on her ankles in the hay,
Shall kiss her brown the whole day long.
I'll know her in the windrows, tall
Above the crickets of the hay.
I'll know her when her odd eyes fall,
One May-blue, one November-grey.
I'll watch her from the red barn wall
Take down her rusty scythe, and call,
And I will follow her away.
The Hens
The night was coming very fast;
It reached the gate as I ran past.
The pigeons had gone to the tower of the church
And all the hens were on their perch,
Up in the barn, and I thought I heard
A piece of a little purring word.
I stopped inside, waiting and staying,
To try to hear what the hens were saying.
They were asking something, that was plain,
Asking it over and over again.
One of them moved and turned around,
Her feathers made a ruffled sound,
A ruffled sound, like a bushful of birds,
And she said her little asking words.
She pushed her head close into her wing,
But nothing answered anything.
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