We were drawn as children to enclosures
like calves to the comfort of fallen limbs—
our dark bat and board sheds and barns
long without paint, dry wood curling
at the rough-cut edges leaked splintered
dust beams, enough to add chapters
to our adventures. We would visit town
friends on horse-drawn implements
saved just in case like old farmers do, play
doctor, lawyer, merchant and Indian chief
or build forts of walnut leaves in the fall,
dig foxholes with Army Surplus shovels
to shoot the Japs and Jerries, then die
dramatically upon the bulwarks, only
to rise again as if sowed by serpent’s teeth.
drycrikjournal 
I enjoyed this.
Here’s one I came up with a while back:
architecture
from ancestral ease
at savanna’s edge
to defensible stand
on precipitous ledge
terrestrial source
accessed through contraction
for the subtle heart
designs by subtraction
to efficient result
previously unknown
yet by natural selection
so easily grown
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I like the rhythm, tone and sentiment. Thanks for contributing.
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