One Evening

One Evening

A country lane turned itself into a loaded shotgun
The abandoned farmhouse shut her eyes in anticipation
Such a deafening sound that’s why no one heard it
But sure spooked the crows who flew every which way
Made the handyman woodpeckers drop their hammers
The blackbirds scold whoever pulled the trigger
Of the mailbox emblazoned with crooked numbers 
Crooked because whoever lived here let the children stick them on
Children who one evening ran barefooted down this lane
Chanting the right numbers in the wrong order