Abandoned Farm

(Not my best but it is a start...a bit of free verse)
Today is a dreary day. Skies grey and the sun hiding because it can't be bothered.
Snowmelt and rain over have covered the area in a thick mud that is now all over my boots and jeans.
Then, sticking out of the ground like the remnants of some ancient civilization, the remnants of a stone archway leading to a field that is now nothing more than a thicket of wineberry and inkberry bushes covered in thorns.
A sad reminder of what once was here.
Then, further up the trail, the foundations of the house. The perfect spot to sit and have lunch.
I sit there, on what was once the front porch of a prominent local judge sipping hot tea as I am sure he often did while watching his children and grand children play near the remnants of the fish pond further down.
I can see him there, smoking his pipe, smiling at all that he had built and all that he had.
I can only imagine what he would think looking from his porch now.
His plans for this escape never came to fruition upon his death.
Now with him passed and his family gone elsewhere, the estate is in disrepair.
What the arsonist who burned the house down did not destroy nature has gladly done for him.
Tree roots jut out of stone walls like jungle vines, a tree engulfs what was once a windmill.
Concrete cracks and disintegrates from the temperature changes and metal rusts from rain and snow.
Nature is slowly moving in where people have gone out.
And yet despite all these changes in aesthetics thanks to fire and neglect...this place remains today for many what it always was for the judge and his family: A safe haven away from the outside world...if only for a few hours.
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Jan 9, 2013