The Barn, a Poem by Jeanette W. Stickel

A well-worn path led

from the back porch,

along the line of sun-scented laundry,

past the vegetable garden,

and into the weathered-gray barn.

Shafts of light sliced

through splintered siding

and lit whirling dust motes.

Whenever I entered

I was struck with a sweet,

musty scent of hay and grain,

mixed with cow dung.

A rough wooden ladder

led to the hayloft—an upper room

where we often played as children,

telling secrets, holding club meetings,

jumping from the window into the hay below,

where it had been tossed with a pitchfork

to the hard-packed ground.

Dad housed newly hatched chicks

in the loft to keep them away

from the roosters’ dagger-beaks.

Years later, when we searched for Kathy,

I stepped into the barn,

inhaling the dusty scent of straw

and burlap feedbags.

As I approached the ladder,

I glanced up into the black,

gaping hole of the hayloft,

then turned away.

Something held me back.

I left to search in the woods

and never saw her hanging there.

---

Jeanette W. Stickel's poems have appeared in Spiritus, Sojourners, Fathom, Ekstasis, Todd Point Review, WayWords, The Orchard’s Poetry Journal, Canary, Amethyst Review and in an anthology published by Wiseblood Books entitled, Homage to Soren Kierkegaard as well as the Mendocino Women's Poetry Anthology. She received a first-place award for a collection of poems at the Mendocino Writers Conference and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her poetry website can be found here: https://jeanettewstickelpoetry.com/.