There is an old barn along the lone countryside, where the roots of rural life deepened and never died
The weather vane is rusty, the barn leans to the west, and what we see beyond the old wood frame is best
Through the years it has become the symbol of toil, where footsteps remain undisturbed deep in the soil
Nature had no mercy weathered by rain, sleet and snow, winds whipping and blowing to and fro
Tree limbs brush the roof, the
Milk River proceeds below, crows soaring above rafters, cawing with woe
The barn standing so simple, embraced with time past, an old dwelling full of memories that forever last
- Lorraine E. Watson
