where she's meant to be

her barn,
an immense collection of lumber
nailed together
a century ago, and raised,
stands wide
and tall in martinsburg
west Virginia.
the light slips through
the boards,
touches the crucifix
on the wall,
the rain too, some wind.
it sings,
this barn, it smells
old,
smells like yesterday,
you can hear
the boots against the floorboards,
hear the horses,
the stirring
of dishes in the kitchen
down below.
she leans
on the steps and holds onto
a post.
this ship will sail.
it's where she's meant to be,
where her
tomorrows will be,
the circle complete.