in the warmth of indian summer
when the scarlet sumac grows under
a copper canopy

a driveway deserted long ago
straight down the road to this row
of gnarled trees

these rotund sheds with roofs of rusty tin
an old woman peers out from the cobwebs within
her flannel sleeve

a mere shadow of her former self
even her memories stored away on a shelf
among the dead leaves

a gust of wind blows it all away
and her ghost visits here every day
the grain bin guardian


Anonymous said...

I love the poem and the video. Gives alot to think about.

Monkeybrain said...

What the hell? I watched the video and loved it. I didn't at first realize there was an associated poem. AWESOME! Love the poem and the video. Nice work Julie!

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