The wind has torn the roof
from the neighbor's knocked together woodshed
thrown it upside down blocking the muddy lane
a rectangular carcass of corrugated steel
its 2x4 ribs exposed to the storm.
“Dad will have to more that,” I say to our son
negotiating the path to the bus.
Walking home through the woods above
I hear my husband grunt
as he lifts one edge, and tips it up
lets it fall -- SPANG-CLASH!
up against the road bank.
The truck door slams
the motor purrs on out the lane.
I am glad to see that after getting your son on the bus you are still taking your walk home through the woods. As I remember shared just recently. (over on WOWH maybe) I imagine you walking among those trees, where you feel so connected with that freeing place. And then from the "other road" comes the jarring sound of your husband clearing the that metal. I really like this piece -
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lolly!
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, Teri, that is exactly how it was. Glad that came through. Thanks for reading my stuff.