Post by Shadow Dragon on Jun 6, 2010 18:45:19 GMT -8
Not poem, not a novel or even short story and not sure where to put something that is just a little musing that I wrote one night. So I will put it here and if it isn't right, then someone can move it if they wish.
The Quiet Barn
I love the barn at night. Sometimes I go out late just to check on the goats. Tonight I made such a journey to the barn.
All the lights are off but one small bulb, creating deep shadowy pools in the corners of the stalls and casting them about the rest of the barn in scattered patterns.
In one stall, a pile of baby goats sleep. Only a couple of quiet calls greet my entrance to the barn before they settle back down. Perhaps they are truly calling to me in greeting, or perhaps their voices were raised merely in protest of the cold that follows me in before the door is closed.
In the other stall our two adult does are laying down resting. They make no noise, but raise their heads as if to see what I want at such a late hour.
I sit down for moment, just to enjoy being in their presence. Lotty finds me uninteresting and soon lays her head back down, using Libby's back as a pillow. Libby watches me for a while before she too begins to drift back off.
Outside, a frigid north wind moans through the naked branches of winter's trees. Inside the barn, the walls keep the goats snug against the cold. Amidst the saw dust, the straw and the deep shadows, the goats lay in cozy peace. The quiet of the barn and peace of the goats washes over me and I wonder how it is that it took me so long to find the joy of goats and how I ever lived without them.
Despite the tranquility that fills the air around me, I know that I cannot stay. I let myself feel the moment for just a bit longer before stepping through the door and out into the icy wind that lashes at the walls of the snug little barn, as if angry that it can't get in.
I walk through the cold and the dark, back to the house, but within me, I carry the quiet serenity of the barn.
-A.D.Trosper
The Quiet Barn
I love the barn at night. Sometimes I go out late just to check on the goats. Tonight I made such a journey to the barn.
All the lights are off but one small bulb, creating deep shadowy pools in the corners of the stalls and casting them about the rest of the barn in scattered patterns.
In one stall, a pile of baby goats sleep. Only a couple of quiet calls greet my entrance to the barn before they settle back down. Perhaps they are truly calling to me in greeting, or perhaps their voices were raised merely in protest of the cold that follows me in before the door is closed.
In the other stall our two adult does are laying down resting. They make no noise, but raise their heads as if to see what I want at such a late hour.
I sit down for moment, just to enjoy being in their presence. Lotty finds me uninteresting and soon lays her head back down, using Libby's back as a pillow. Libby watches me for a while before she too begins to drift back off.
Outside, a frigid north wind moans through the naked branches of winter's trees. Inside the barn, the walls keep the goats snug against the cold. Amidst the saw dust, the straw and the deep shadows, the goats lay in cozy peace. The quiet of the barn and peace of the goats washes over me and I wonder how it is that it took me so long to find the joy of goats and how I ever lived without them.
Despite the tranquility that fills the air around me, I know that I cannot stay. I let myself feel the moment for just a bit longer before stepping through the door and out into the icy wind that lashes at the walls of the snug little barn, as if angry that it can't get in.
I walk through the cold and the dark, back to the house, but within me, I carry the quiet serenity of the barn.
-A.D.Trosper
