He looks ... Once more
The wide, weathered barn door
Tilts … To the wind
Its hinges broken … Rusted
It will never close again
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Doesn’t matter
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A small, solitary swallow
Flees from the shadows within
Vanishes into a chaste sun
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He wonders … To where will he fly?
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A radiant white dove
Descends
Upon the shimmering tin roof
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It struts (in righteous pride)
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It coos (in blessed compassion)
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And
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It defecates
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The field beyond this building is … just a field
Is there more than clouds above?
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He hears the wife call to him … Gentle … Soothing
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His impotent body moves … Retreating
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The ache in his throat … Tormenting
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This time he’ll tell her that he didn’t …
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Hear the child’s laughter