way off in the back of beyond,
circled by hills that,
green in the hot dense night,
wrap around it like a ribbon alive,
stands the farm.
no wired poles connect it
to the world that throbs
beyond this pastoral isolation.
there is no evidence of information,
coming or going,
interwoven with the spider’s
vast voracious web
that makes our daily living immediate,
transparent to whatever eyes
should choose to view it.
it is a monument to the past,
having chanced upon it
under the blanket of this moonlit night
i stood, silent as those hills,
trying to imagine life
without the distractions and demands
of the incursive inventions
of a digital world.
© 2013 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
Thoughts while standing in the silence of a rural farmstead on a summer night.