not stopping here for long—
tin droplets of rain water
slivers of sun shine through
silver wood barn boards
while each suspended mote
hangs star like in still life
eyes adjust, just slow, to forms
silence is not really empty
wind moves ghostly
stable straw stiffly shuffles
startled shadows explode in sound,
muffled feathered wings, boxing
splintering spell into evening's hours

-cec