A National Historic Register
farmhouse, clapboard white,
dirty windows betraying stored
boxes and boards inside, sports
a tall ladder reaching up to roof
struts for some never-done repairs,
still in place ten years later.
Jogging the maacadam country road,
I can't help noticing the overrun
grounds littered with discarded cars,
old machinery and rusty lawn chairs,
the once-proud homestead standing
neglected, overgrown, despoiled.
Then, among the ruins, I glimpse
an unexpeted brace of lavender
surprise lillies flying unheralded
atop their slender stalks, blush
crepe gowns fluttering daintily
in the brilliant August sunlight.
Beauty can always be found
amid the worst that man
imposes upon his world.
first published in The Penwood Review
©2004 Bonnie Manion