Somewhere off route 99

Way out in the middle of nowhere

Thereís an old barn you can see if you look quick

As you fly by

I guess the barn used to be red, but it isnít any more

Itís a dark dust colored brown

He has almost fallen

But stubbornly refuses to drop

This is a good thing

Because as long as he lasts

The freeway will not have completely won

The traveler can still be reminded

That here, at this very spot,

A horse and a cow lived

A rooster crowed every morning at dawn

To tell the farmer it was time to get up

And tend his crop

The shade from the barn provided a resting place

For some lazy old dog who had wondered to far

From his customary porch

Nearby the rusted out shell off an old flat bed truck

Bares witness to the barnís testimony

The truck brought hay and grain

And other necessities from the general store

A family was transported across dirt roads

To weddings and funerals

And back and forth to church every Sunday

I bet that I could spend a whole day

There by the barn

Just soaking up all the tales

That I am sure the barn and the truck could tell

But the guy behind me is getting to close to my bumper and I really donít have the time to stop.