little church stands between
the old route road and the big woods
with a faith of clapboard and a peace of stained glass
Sanctuary
Perspective
the shingles
fooled my eye
the window told it straight
The Disappearing Barn
seasons
pass through
memories remain
Arbor Ador
aged arbor
speaks to me
of countless happy times
Weathered
old homestead
holding the place
for spring
Lightening Sky
in gathering darkness
the weathered barn
endures on