Off the old porch old wood
Long nails Forced out
Half way in
From the years of exposure
The floors make noise in the deep winter
Expanding boards rub against the foundation
Long sounds outside
Quick reminders speaking their age
Pouring hot water on the used tea bag
Yesterdays thoughts
Windows with broken seams
Still sturdy in their protection
Wood floors covered by dusty rugs
Solidify the heat to trap the experience
Blisters on toes from an aging blood vein
Hats covering ears
3 sweaters to insulate organs
Scruffy face with a few crumbs
Sip and ponder
Watch the wild horses look inside
Fences collapsed no longer a boundary
They remain loyal with a way out
Piles of hay
Scraps of paper for the fire inside
Boxes that once held a days kale harvest
No refrigerator
Leftovers in the melting snowbanks
Urine too
Stacks of bills
Names of residents no longer
Story stacked on story
Chipped paint and dried stink bugs
An aging guitar still played
Record spins a warped 50 cent one
Chair by the fireplace
Random books left by transients
True vagabonds with gifts
Dishes piled up
Rice and hot sauce stuck
Can of beans
Can of peaches half eaten
A dull pencil rests on an open page
Some sentences of her recipe
Next to his poem of regret
Hazy Acres 
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