Don’t Blink

Rolling through the valley,
you pass the canal and mill towns,
the farms that string like an antique necklace
all the way to Albany. Near Dolgeville,
I saw a once-was farmhouse and barn,
empty of family and stock.
The barn’s roof rested on the milking floor,
empty birds’ nests in its beams and joists.
Yet the house still stood, though canted
toward the Mohawk.
It looked to be held up by one window,
which stood almost plumb and middling strong
for the time being, staring as it always did,
out at the path where the cows once
rumbled in and lowed for their milking.
“Don’t blink” I said to myself as I rushed by,
“because someday this will all be gone.”
“Don’t blink,” I begged the house, whose
sad swirled-glass eye looked out
on one more hollow bead in the
necklace leading all the way to Albany.

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3 thoughts on “Don’t Blink

  1. I have seen this house, with the window holding up, but in Michigan. I smiled reading this one as it made me a little more ready to migrate back north.

  2. Pingback: Sunday Cryptoquote Spoiler – 05/03/15 | Unclerave's Wordy Weblog

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