Dust and hay and wood planks everywhere, windows above and wind chimes in the air. Beautiful ceilings and horses around, green grass and fence post all over the ground. Sunsets over the hill in the evening sky, clouds float in and around and by. Green tin roof and sliding doors, cupolas on top and dirt on the floors. Oak smells of the barn walls so strong, days are short and nights are long. Sounds of grain being chewed by the horses in the stalls, a simple cross hangs on the walls. A cathedral itself holy as any church could seat, the sounds of nature and mother earth meet. A flow of love is in the air--seems like an angel has chosen to live there. I go there on days when I need to see, that life and love were meant for me. So sacred and ancient with so much charm, when life loses its meaning I go to the barn...
by Tim McAlpin
|
