Nobody's Home

Slender, whispering and flaming firewood surrounds
the gray-weathered clapboards of the deserted
homestead whose torn gingham curtains blow among
the paneless windows with the gentle breeze of
a summer morning.

Silence is challenged by harmonizing birds
who serenade the intruder of the rustic vista
with the ardor of a courting lover.
Cobwebs woven by a tireless spider hang
among the eaves and entryway,
catching unsuspecting victims who dare
cross the threshold only to become
the larder of the eight-legged trapper.

Summer grass, uncut, falls beneath the
soft soles of the stealthy encroacher as
it muffles the sound of a pounding heart,
anticipating the unknown beyond the
latched and warped door of the abandoned abode.
As cobwebs are cleared by a willow stick,
the frightened spider scrambles to safey, furious
at the bold intrusion.

Slowly, the rusty latch lifts----what awaits the
curious visitor from within these walls?
Footsteps echo throughout the dwelling,
rooms are empty, pictures are gone,
family and mirth are ghosts of the past,
nobody's home to offer a cup of coffee,
nobody's home to say goodbye.