old buildings like this one
with generations of character
and stories in every stone
what is it they conjure up in me?
something stirs when the setting sun
throws warm light on gray stone
and the shadows slowly rise
from the dark asphalt
a dance move
that never gets old
no matter how familiar
you think it might be
at one time this must have been a home
it’s built like a home, and is decorated as such
but now, between the padlock on the door
and the bricks stacked on the porch
a visitor stands to be confused
by this strange juxtaposition
of tending and of neglect
in the same setting
one iconic edifice
standing alone
though modernized
still somehow
outside of time
warm sun and cool shadow
a row of windows, mostly the same
it must be the weekend, or at least a pandemic
these days, parking is easy to find
warm sun and cool shadow
a row of windows, mostly the same
it must be the weekend, or at least a pandemic
these days, parking is easy to find
certain perspectives
can obscure what is real
a smokescreen of ambiguity
in case of fire break glass
step into reflection
the river lies low
while matted leaves dry slowly
waiting for a ride
a stark facade
that gives nothing
and makes no reference
to its neighbors
here to deliver power
but at what cost?
dappled in warm filtered light
and adorned by an ambitious creeper
new growth continues as structure declines
an odd corner of decrepitude in a well kept town
the structure, no doubt, will be repaired or replaced
the creeper will be torn down, and probably grow again
the sun will continue to cast its light on whatever is present
whether it be made by humans or harvested by nature
but for now, in this brief and imaginary moment
the way these two processes come together
the one crumbling, the other climbing
place reveals the poignant beauty
inherent in the passage of time
old cars on display
new cars waiting to move on
reflecting on time