It is red brick and steady.
Though the herefords tread the floors these days,
She is steady. And though the window frames
Carry little paint – it was white – and hold
Where they fell, and though
The creek has wandered, no, carved,
Deep against the footing stones,
She is steady. Steady as the ma’am
That taught them. Steady as the hand
That scraped the chalks and simple maths,
Steady as the wind scraped eyes,
The chaff chapped hands
Tracing letters onto boards.
Yes, she stands forever
And only the bell is gone.

Image: Henry & Co. on Unsplash