Behind the Barn (For Poets Rally Week #42)

Sky blue flies
  a kite
    of gold
Sparrows sing
  of lilac
    bloom
Sons smell leather
  tossed
    in glee
Old bike rusts behind the barn

Wrinkled hands
  work soft
    a broom
Puppies yelp
  inside
    a box
Bumble bees bounce
  roses
    pink
Old bike rusts behind the barn

Awake
Awake
My Schwinn of old
Arise
Arise
And pedal bold
You can
You can
Shake off the mold
Awake
Arise
You can’t be old

Lonely leaf
  waves bye
    to green
Daylight shrinks
  in evening’s
    yawn
Windows close
  to battle
    chill
Old bike rusts behind the barn

Scarecrows pout
  out on the
    farm
Sweaters
  grow down
    children’s arms
Sons move south
  on beaches
    warm
Old bike rusts behind the barn

Awake
Awake
My Schwinn of old
Arise
Arise
And pedal bold
You can
You can
It’s not too cold
Awake
Arise
You can’t die old

Blankets white
  lie still
    in sleep
Barren trees
  no nests
    to keep
Echoed boys
  sleigh down
    hills deep
Old bike rusts behind the barn

Calendars thin
  one page
    left
Sons send gifts
  quietly
    wrapped
Silent Night hummed
  damp eyes
    close
Old bike rusts behind the barn

Awake
Awake
My Schwinn of old
Arise
Arise
And pedal bold
You can
You can
Shake off the cold
Awake
Arise
You can’t die old

Sky blue flies
  a kite
    of gray
Robins sigh
  a song
    of bloom
Sons travel home
  dressed
    in black
Old bike’s gone behind the barn

Wrinkled hands
  clasped stiff
    on breast
Church suit
  starched
    inside pine box
Pink blooms
  wilt
    in watered vase
Old bike’s gone behind the barn

Awake
Awake
My Schwinn of old
Arise
Arise
And pedal bold
You can
You can
In Heaven’s fold
Awake
Arise
You won’t be old