A mosaic of grime blurs the view
through the only window left whole
on this homestead, abandoned to vermin
and weeds grown leggy through the floor.
The fields beyond cast an Impressionist’s haze —
matte pastels of wheat, barley, sky. In the bedroom,
I find a rag doll missing an arm. I cradle her,
feel the ache of mule-pulled plows,
For the “window” prompt on dVerse.
PS Be sure to read the best poem ever about an abandoned farmhouse by Ted Kooser. Here’s the link.