The old overgrown barnyard,
After decades of disuse,
Lays littered with rusty old equipment
And is now surrounded by verdant nature -
The spirit of the abandoned farm
Seems to whisper to the urban explorer,
Who takes only pictures and
Leaves only footprints.
The grandfather of the old farming family
May still haunt the grounds,
As if existing between the lines
Of days gone past and ever present nature.
The spirit of nature herself heals the ground,
Growing around the old equipment -
Which nature rusts away and destroys...
All old things become new again.
Even all of the old mason jars,
Farm tools and bicycle frames
May be made new again.
Yet, how much do we learn
From the liminality of
The old farmhouse
Existing between two worlds -
Broken down and dead, yet the foundation stands -
The farm itself fallen into disuse,
Yet nature overtakes it, and makes it live again -
The area has been long abandoned,
Save for use by hunters and explorers.
The serenity and beauty of nature
Dispel the gloom of the old farm.
The broken down barns,
Mere skeletons of the
Glory days of tobacco farming,
Stand as silent symbols
Of the spirit of the past,
Yet even the smell of pine sap
And the caw of the crow
And the flitter by of butterflies
Raise one's own spirit
While still reflecting
On the lessons of the past.
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