IN THE OLD DAYS
In the old days, now found wanting, there was
a crush of metal things to do : jack up the barn,
as it was sagging, burn the far fields to savage the
weevil. Erect a corn-shed with local cuttings, plane
and hammer and nail what you had all together.
A few others would help; they - with their wives -
would come over a spend a day or a few: pies and
cakes and soups, while the mud roadway thickened
and the path to the milk house sunk. Thus it was,
always all these things. My son grew up, and then
died in a plowing accident. My daughter too, she
lost two fingers in the rake. One of them would
have probably held her wedding ring, later, had
she survived for any of those farther days.
No comments:
Post a Comment