amber leaves of time

a blanket of insulating moss 
turns white metal to green velvet
rust colours the upended leaves 
and broken out window frames
glass shards buried deep 
in ragged sticks and torn maroon seats

abandoned beside a tote road by its last passenger
a bad engine, scrap metal, 
bald tires shrunk and sunk six inches into the ground
years passed, 
hornets became its new loyal tenants
foxes, deer and hunters ambled by 

not haunted, like the house
left intact, unlike the barn
the car sits, too far from the field to be rescued
destined to pique curiosities as it melds with the forest

​:: written: March 11, 2015