Old Wood

Dusty violin
leans against the dry, cracked pine
     of a windowsill.

Outside, a field;
grasses yellow and heavy
brush the roughness
     of a small, darkening cross.

Sunlight
rolls down from distant hills,
stretching long shadows behind,
and pushes through streaked glass
     to smear itself on the unkempt
          oak floor.

Bowed cane,
reaching up against the arm
     of an unvarnished chair,
held limply
       in his withered hand.

-GSKaurin, 1989