Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Field Stones



Field Stones

When this house was new,
field stones formed the dry stack  walls.
One by one, each stone was picked,
then placed with care,
a piece of the puzzle.

Sixty years and what remains?
This tumble of stones,
thatched with grass
and tufted in moss,
so many pieces missing.

Now,
one by one,
we lug those stones.
One by one,
we roll them
end over end over end…
then rest.

One at a time,
slow and slow,
a stone pathway forms,
and winds
to
our 
door.

The stones and walls
that once warned
Stay Out,
now mark the way to home
and
Welcome.

And one by one,
stones live anew. 
They call to us,

Come Home, Come Home.


4 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

it's a form of recycling! I like the idea of reusing a broken down building to become something else

Jane Tims said...

Hi Carol. Stone walls are a solid, useful human part of the landscape. Your poem tells the story of this particular fence so well! I was glad to meet you. Congratulations on receiving "Judge’s Special Mention" in the Short Fiction category for the New Brunswick Writer’s Federation! I would like to have heard you read from your story! Jane

Carol Steel 5050 said...

Hi CGP,
We've been recycling parts of our house since we bought it. We love the odd and the old...feels like home.

Carol Steel 5050 said...

Hi Jane,
Thanks for your comment. I would like to have heard your winning entry, as well. It was great to meet you at WFNB Words
Spring.