"Time and Music"
Nearly engulfed in six foot tall goldenrod, the shed, empty but for a ping pong table and
a nation of spiders, bides its remaining time.
Arthritic joists, porous sills like aging bones, eroding under the weight of eighty winters, feebly, precariously, support the tarp-covered roof.
Oak floorboards, worn smooth by gliding feet stamping out a beat, are still intact, as is the stone fireplace, each stone still in place, undeterred by wisteria vines twining through gaps left by crumbling mortar.
Broad chestnut boards darkened by sun and time frame the dance hall like monoliths left by some ancient civilization.
The clerestory defined many a starlit night before trees sprang up to obscure the glowing points of light above unheeding dancers.
Acoustic music still echoes faintly from worn oak and grooved chestnut as spiders spin in time
Dorothy Baker lives in Western Massachusetts where she's enjoyed writing in groups with other women for a number of years. She grew up in North Carolina where she began writing poems at age nine and progressed to soap operas as a teen, casting her reluctant childhood friends in the lead roles. Since then, she has helped write for a nonprofit environmental organization. Her stories and other work have appeared in Breath and Shadow over the years.