Field House

Field House

Dust motes suspended in silent dance
Walls varnished in sepia sun paint
Cloudy windows intimate shadowy trees
swaying in restless prairie wind waltz
Wrinkled boots hang pendulously from rusty nails
Salt caked jar sparkles like a pauper’s chandelier
Upon dresser with sinuous cracks like tree limbs
branching into arabesque swirls
Mattress molders in misty morning quiet
Shards of glass scattered like diamonds
in corner shrouded by soft darkness
Spider weaves translucent web
Strands gathered in cathedral of death
Church shimmers in heavenly perfection
Crystal lattice a glow with holy fire
Predator of time stalks my lonely hours
Life found purchase here once
might be found again
With caring and hard selfless work
walking away I hear laughter
from the tree swing