One rusty horseshoe hangs on a nail br above the door, still losing its luck, br and a work-collar swings, an empty br old noose. The silence waits, wild to be br broken by hoofbeat and heavy br harness slap, will founder but remain; br while, outside, above the stable, br eight, nine, now ten buzzards swing low br in lazy loops, a loose black warp br of patience, bearing the blank sky br like a pall of wind on mourning br wings. But the bones of this place are br long picked clean.