Sheltered Thanks


Sorrows drip from leaking eaves

Chasing a path to fertile ground

Like angel’s tears upon green leaves

Flowed off with nary a sound


Showers from spring sky so fair

Flicker by in random time

Adding to damp morning air

Field’s full fragrance so sublime


Journeyed now uncounted miles

To end tired in this heap

Few planks on wobbled stiles

No shelter from holed keep


In days of yore, may been grand

A farmer’s hand-hewn shack

Now sparse roof can barely stand

Sound walls it seems to lack


Yet my journey has miles ahead

So, I thank you for this rest

At least a place to lay my head

And body find its zest


May fate grant you longer day

Fighting off your growing rot

For any traveler comes this way

Will thank you for this spot


Fair thee well my rickety home

Your love not e’er be spurned

More miles yet have I to roam

No plans for my return


Whence these clouds shall break

Leave you behind I will

Oh, so many steps to take

The journey I must fulfill


So, take my only gift for you

You strewn, intrepid planks

I give to you the honor due

My humble, sheltered thanks


8 Responses to “Sheltered Thanks”
  1. beth says:

    beautiful gift, and I love these old places, always imagine the stories of their people, what’s happened within

    • Brad Osborne says:

      Me too. Old, abandoned structures lead me to immediately spin all kinds of mental stories about their hay day and the people who used them. Thank you, as always, Beth!

  2. Anonymous says:

    Thought provoking!!!
    I love it!!!!!!

  3. kristianw84 says:

    Your title is very clever! I love the story woven into the poem. I could picture the weary traveler settling in, the floors creaking, and that musty scent that all old, rustic shacks have. Very well done!

  4. jonicaggiano says:

    Brad this is especially beautifully written. The rhythm is just so lovely and it reads so easily. Your words are really something. Sending you hugs, Jonikens

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