A quartet of weathered buildings
on a frozen misty plain
The first keeled-o’er from the snow, white sun, and rain.
Second is a silo, powd’ry steel intact and near
Much a thing still left inside it- Tis not right to pry, you fear.
Next, a pleasing cabin ancient pioneers did craft
standing proud through waves of Now; and an anchor to the past.
Last a lonesome stable, made crimson by milk paint
Apprehension stirs inside you as you peer far past the gate
But here is nothing new to see
but a barren floor in its entirety.
A deep need for Time now satisfied,
After walking away, you find
that the hard-earned favor of these presences has been gained
by keeping foolish pridefulness closely rein’d.