Gray bones,
having defied weather
of an uncertain century,
prop the structure
with proud erectness.
Dusty tobacco,
its earthy cologne,
in prominent notes
of manure, sweat,
sod and corn,
the blood of every
board and plank.
Rodent, fowl,
serpent and spider,
those familiar church
worshippers,
trample the cattle’s
communion, both
holy ritual and
hidden shelter
of tiny players and
secret lovers.
— © Rick Baldwin