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

~~~



Comments
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:

    Beautiful!!
    Thought provoking!!!
    Reflective!!!
    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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