The jealous rain
Dripped across
The moon
Running the paint
On the old
Barn door.
Yellow dust
From goldenrod
Kissed the peeling wood
Ruffled by
Wind.
Hinges curse
Offended by
The push of a stranger
On a night like this.
The porch light
Comes on
To the insects
Who crawl across
The only warm thing for miles.
© Diane E. Dockum, 2008, Just Beyond The Hill
Marble Hill Press 