The Haunted Barn

Again it is upon me.

Each night of late I am awoken rest always broken.

A wild ruckus across the lawn. Whereupon stirs the barn.

Many a restless eve have found me waiting, watching, searching for some unseen trespasses.

This morning, like many recent, I stumbled from bed after sleep indecent.

Then I chore as always.

Tend to the land and to the lambs.

The livestock and crops seen to and firewood chopped.

A night's rest I won't get, but did earn. Even if I haven't fixed the leaking churn.

As dusk turns dark, I take my post.

Torment soon to cease. This time, I'll catch the sneaks.

Amongst the hay in the loft I wait. Hoping this night changes fate.

Intently listening beyond barnyard inhabitants, I anticipate deadly circumstance.

I hear out into the night, chirping crickets, trees swayed by breeze, forest beyond farm.

Coyotes cackle elsewhere.

I wish I could blame them, I swear.

Their high-pitched hymns are nails on my chalkboard. Their creepy screeches are quite awkward.

My spine cringes with each chaotic call.

No coyotes' been terrorized my homestead. By now, I'd have found something dead.

Instead perhaps vandals or vagrants, maybe a maniac.

Moments pass like millennia before the creatures' chorus fades.

Once their song is no more, I again feel secure. Staunchly I dedicate myself sentinel, eyes trained upon the door.

Now it is the watching, my gaze held pressed against weights of sleepless days.

Heavy are the curtains to the world, but I mustn't rest with mystery still furled.

I strain against my weary for what I can...

Alas, my lids do fall...

I submit to slumber...

In an instant it begins!

A push of will to rise and see, but nothing seems to be.

Besides Bessie bellowing bovine blues, that is.

My eyes dart right then left, but nothing is a mess.

Now, I am searching for a ghoulish intruder or an uninvited guest.

Patience now, and maybe fear, both pin me here.

The sheep cry while Bessie wails, but I see no threat and hear no specter.

I am left perplexed and vexed about what's next.

What weakness I display. So I pray.

To the god above. Protect all I love.

My home, my nest. Return to us our peace and rest.

Thy name be hallowed, but my heart is hollow as I say it.

Yet, I whisper to myself and my soul.

My hopeful intention may be divine intervention.

For my heart stirs with courage. Ready to face whatever danger lurking.

I descend and stifle the stock.

Bessie beckons me to her stall. So I heed her call.

I peer past her pen's post. Slurping sound seeps through.

My nemesis will soon reveal. With this my psyche will heal.

No more sleepless nights.

No more waiting, watching, searching.

Now it is finding, squashing, hurting.

My knuckles white around the pitch I will slay this son of a witch.

I burst beyond Bessie and her bellows, but beleaguered I bust my bum.

When I thrust upon thin air and slip upon the puddle there.

Prone and a bit weathered I turn to see my enemy... feathered?

Ruffled and reaching to the leak, it suckles the churn with rounded beak.

It is now I see my sin. My devil is the sloth within.

I stare in stupefied wonder as I realize my blunder.

An opportunistic owl had come to clean up my mess. Unintentionally, causing this distress.

In the morning, I'll fix the hole.

Going forth with dusk's next breaking, I've a new chore in the making.

A dish at my window for our new guest. With him out of the barn, I can rest and just outside... a new nest.

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Good Fortune to You.