missing it by just yards.
The big silo fared only slightly better
its distance from the road little more than its height.
One hundred and ten years ago
some stubbly farmer in broken boots and muddy overalls
chose this knoll
having no way of knowing his plot would someday be cleft,
half to north
and half to south
of the concrete that would carry rolling cocoons
bearing strange strangers in flip-flops and sunglasses
eating pizza and corn chips
and calling out
Hey, look at that old barn.