Barn frames. Splintered and glorious.
Colonial American flags, rusty red, not royal in hue
protrude from the frames.
Behind the red wood,
cows laze in hobbit land and fields
in verdant seas.
Father and young boys
dip their fishing rods
in the lake.
A mallard rests near by on the burning pavement
leaking oily red.
Down the road and a bend in the bridge:
Eggs for sale –
oval yard sign stands by the wood mailbox,
a mini-fridge holds eggs on the porch.
The mallard hatches to heaven.