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Poem

There’s something exceptional about country life
Taking me back to when things were so slow
Sitting under a tree coring an apple with a knife
Gazing over golden corn and counting each row

The gnats during the day would not let me rest
As I laid out on the crumbling veranda to nap
A nagging nuisance and unwelcomed guests
Killing them each time my small hands clapped

I rose early in the morning to get my chores done
The summer was hot; you got weak from the heat
When I went hunting, Papa loaned me his shotgun
There are plenty of fruit trees on the land, a treat

I’d bring home a squirrel or rabbit for the woodstove
Grandma Hattie would skin and cook it before sunset
Collect some of the sweetest peaches from the grove
Making a cobbler as close to heaven as you could get

A shortcut by the mill, a rock’s throw from our barn
If I wanted a cool drink, I'd go to the riverbanks
Sitting with Ms. Katie as she spun thick nylon yarn
At supper, we bowed our heads to give God thanks

Papa chewed snuff as the crickets chirped outside
Harmonizing their mournful songs the entire night
We hitched up the buckboard for an evening ride
At a fire, telling ghost tales until we peed from fright

It’s been so long; the house is overtaken by decay
Remembering those memories from a long-ago past
Those precious anecdotes that I cherish to this day
Wanting it to stay the same and hoping it would last

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