The broken glass in the old window frame
complete with peeling paint and spider web
allows fractured light to penetrate the room.
Echos of children’s laughter on the cold breeze
come through the open door where snow has
drifted and hewn timbers stand as a testament
to the hard work of human backs and hands.

No family remains, only the dust of lifetimes
fills the spaces, swirling in the wind, settling
on gray wood floors where weeds have risen
through cracks and faded to the color of sand.
Snow sparkles in sunlight as a crow lands
on the broken porch railing, pecks the wood
and flies off, never knowing who they were.