at the inn

if you go there,
if you stumble
upon
the red fox inn,
down the road,
through the arches
of tree lined hills,
past the snow,
the stone fences
the burned out
mills
and homes,
if you go there,
where horses are in
the field,
where cattle graze,
where history began
and ended, where
the tombstones
smoothed by time
tilt above the dried bones
of revolutionary soldiers
just below
the ground,
if you're hungry
and need a place to rest,
to stay for
the night,
a place where soldiers
slept,
where lanterns swung
on chains, a day on horse
from the city,
if you drive and drive
down fifty,
you can stop there
and eat, put your boots up,
they'll take your coat,
your hat, then
drink, feast.