Given enough time

Photo by Timon Reinhard on Unsplash

used to being filled,
now the grain bin 
just slouches there 
at the edge of the fallow 
field, lonely even though 
the crumpling house tries 
to keep him company. 

and of course, the house too 
is crestfallen, empty as she is with her
windows broken in abandonment.
Her beds just empty springs, 
stuffing long ago pillaged 
by creatures still making homes. 
Wind whistles through their
hollow sadness, as hungry 
rust and mold feast on their neglect,
buckling their wood and steel knees. 

after a lifetime of this landscape grief, 
the hardened foundations and
weary walls may decide to welcome 
new guests and start holding onto 
dust, gathering leaves and blowing 
sand, welcoming these wanderers to 
settle in the vacant rooms.

and then the little bits of good green 
will find their way inside too, 
tentative and timid at first before 
discovering their voices, singing 
loud enough to share courage 
with hesitant trees and shrubs.
Grasses will help too. They will grow 
taller and thicker each year 
waving for others to join.

And slowly, slowly the bones 
of the bin and home 
will bleach and settle, the space 
between empty ribs filling with new life— 
life they didn't birth but that fills them 
just the same, until one day they realize 
the wind has picked up their loneliness 
and carried it away.

_Written March 26 2026

This poem was written in response to the poetry prompt that Paige Ryan shared here (take a look at her amazing photos that capture the beauty that can arise from misfortune).

It is a small comfort to me that places we now think of as bursting with life like the Pacific Northwest, were once freshly scraped, barren rock after the ice sheets retreated. And over thousands of years, life has found a way there.

Where have you seen life arrive unbidden in long forgotten or abandoned places?