Guest Poet J. Carter Crumpton
The Peace without the Chicken Clatter
One-man sat in the swing and watched sunlight
burst through the clouds, falling onto the freshly-painted barn
with its armor-sheets tightly tied about its head
and clown-red sides painted from neck to toe.
Tin-water glistened silver in little beads as they ran down the roof
--left by clouds that scattered, their afternoon tea complete--
and dropped into the bed of the old, green flatbed
he used to bring in the hay on years ago.
The wind rocked the new pulley back and forth above the loft,
smaller beams of light reflected tiny circle-rainbows
into the once-foreboding forest that had often tried to swallow
the peace and quiet of the barnyard after the chickens
left and took all their clucking clatter.
He rocked in the swing, rocking to a whistle-tune
whose memory still echoed over the farm in the shadows,
and sipped from the icy glass of lemonade before he smiled,
looking up to the new pulley rocking gently in the breeze,
moving around and around.
J. Carter Crumpton's Questions:
*I tried to capture the feelings of comfort and peace; was I able to portray
contentment and satisfaction, the way that a retired person may feel after a
*Does the poem use too much imagery? or not enough?
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