by Kenneth Harper Finton

Summer's day in old Darke County,
nineteen hundred fifty three,
a freckled lad searched for adventure,
explorations wild and free.

To the neighbor's barn he rambled,
all alone through fields of green,
sneaked into the giant structure
for to see what could be seen.

Dimly lit, immense, inviting,
smelling sweet from last year's hay,
rustic ladders beckoned softly,
wooden rungs well grooved with age

Up to the most distant window,
high above the gambrel beams,
up he climbed through webs of darkness,
higher than his highest dreams.

Fear can cause the knees to tremble,
hanging on for life and limb.
Straight the ladder rose to heaven,
higher than he'd ever been.

With one mighty surge of muscle,
fighting fears and gravity,
to the uppermost recesses,
through the window's dust he peaked.

Far away the courthouse steeple
towered o'er the village green,
higher than the hills beside them,
spires of churches could be seen.

What a wondrous revelation,
like unto some angel's dream,
close unto the foot of heaven,
dust motes swarmed in sunny beams.

Climbing down so smooth and easy,
limbs obeying, dragons slain,
eyes adjusting to the dimness,
feet upon Ohio clay.

Small adventures to be certain,
simple viewpoints, vantage changed,
yet the brilliance of ascension
shined upon that summer’s day.