Kathleen Ripley Leo
| Pole-Barn by Kathleen Ripley Leo I remember the barn in the fields that autumn in '67, college hot in our blood, the sweet man I knew who took me there and the sun like pole vaults streaking through the ample cracks in the ceiling. Hay bales and wheel barrows cluttered the ground and for a Chicago city dweller, the high ceiling broke down barriers far more distant than the tall loft. I had no language for the horse tackle or any of the long handled farm tools strewn in the bright dusty air. Just the good smells of the earth, and small brown mice somewhere steaking thru undetectable trails in the dirt. The brown dirt so ready to give its commodious permission to the benefit of our youth and its pasture. Kathleen Ripley
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Pole Barn |