Under feather grey wood
Sleeps a patch of land
Bricks sigh echoes of children
Their feet, where my grandfathers stand
(One room schoolhouse, Chester County, Pennsylvanvia.)
Listening for the words in a quiet corner of the night. The fiction, poetry, and photography of Jason Evans.
7 comments:
Simply beautiful, both photo and poem.
Is this schoolhouse still in use? The windows look new.
oh that SO fits that picture!
This is very sweet. It's a refreshing change from all those death-related stories we crazy writers penned last week! :)
Angelique
Beautiful & poignant.
Lovely and elegiac poem that is perfectly matched to the picture.
Takoda, I don't think the school is still in use, but you are right, someone is keeping it from decaying completely.
Angel, thanks. :)
Angelique, that's true. =) I tried to use a more uplifting picture than in the past. I guess it didn't work so much.
FunkyMunky, much appreciated.
Sara, trying to find a harmony between photographs and writing is something I often experiment with here. Glad you liked this one!
I'm starting to look at your photos for a longer time before I read the words that accompany them.
You know what? The words mean more this way.
You will leave such a wonderful leagcy behind, Jason. Do you ever wonder what your grandchildren will think as they read this years later, when you are the tree speaking to them as they look at you intently, wondering...?
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