Discovery
by Jared Carter
On top of a beam, where no one had looked
for a hundred years—an unvisited space
since the barn was put up—I found this book.
It might have been a workman who forsook
this volume of verse, that was later misplaced
on top of a beam. Where no one had looked,
covered with feathers and chaff, near a nook
in the gambrel roof, it remained, encased
since the barn was put up. I found this book,
and climbed down to the loft below. I shook
the dust from its pages and brushed its face.
On top of a beam, where no one had looked,
the type had stayed clear, the lilt and crook
of the lines kept the same honest grace
since the barn was put up. I found this book
that told of flowers, and a winding brook,
in words that would never wilt or be erased.
On top of a beam, where no one had looked
since the barn was put up, I found this book.