Summers End Poem by Thomas Foreman

He lies down alongside
Weathered,
Just as the barn

A days ole' work,
Sunken with brazen eyes
He snuggles close
Adrift and weighted,
Held of aged sky

A wonderous yesteryear
Watchful,
Just beyond sigh

He hears the growth of whisper

What has he learned
Of these green, summer days?
Caught perhaps,
In fonderous thought
Friendly of gaze?

Wood shavings
Cling, helpless and seasoned
Upon faded flannel

Grease splatters,
Lay thick and scattered
Worn softly under,
The old, barn doors panel