Given enough time
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?


You make the decay feel beautiful with your prose, Andy!
Beautifully rendered images and story, Andy!