The insidious wrath of age has pilfered her beauty ..
Rusted chains hang in quietude , wrenched in dubious functionality ....
Superfluous stockyards , fencing long in need of repairs ..
Barns that once bustled with the drudgery of agriculture can only whisper ..
Wind chimes trill in the cold afternoon , the crack of the hammer to the anvil gone ..
Tractor implements lie frozen , a lone Crow stands guard over barren orchards* ..