Cracks in the windows
Gap under the door
I like the fresh air
Cobwebs on the ceiling
Hole in the floor
An inch of dust on the stair

This farm was built by hand and plow
In the 1870s
Never a nightmare but not quite a dream
But something in between.

Although the yard is overgrown
You can still find the well
And that pile of bricks you see over there
Is where the silo fell.

But this old barn
Has held its ground
Built in 1910
Its old oak beams, they make some sound
Feeling the northern wind

From the loft, 20 acres or so
Look dry and spare
The best of the land
Was sold long ago
When a family still lived there.

I want to turn this tired old dirt
Back to the wild prairie
A gift to the land and the living things
And a gift to me.

I ask these seeds and the coming rain
To do what they do
And bring back the blue stem 7 feet tall
And the black eyed susan too.

This farm was built by hand and plow
In the 1870s
Never a nightmare but not quite a dream
But something in between.

I know it will take some time
For this land to breathe again
But I am willing to wait
And do what I can
To hear that prairie wind
To hear that prairie wind.

©2022 Craig Hansen