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The House That Jack Built (Part 1)

Fatigued from years of gleaning storms of snow, sleet, and rain,
 I was yet an innocent and therefore unashamed.
 Her smothered walls creaked and her shingled roof leaked,
 The House That Jack Built some called it.
 But that is where I enjoyed so much fun,
 In spite of the scarcity of both grub and mon,
 With Imagination as my playmate and Time as my friend,
 I’d return to that humble shanty and explore once again.
 I’d trade my white luxury for that battered tin tub,
 Where I soaked clean after molding pies from mud,
 On the threshold of The House That Jack Built.
 The trip-provoking linoleum was cold ‘neath orphaned feet,
 And while we youngest cuddled, the elders rose from sleep.
 Grandpa whittled and kindled a fire,
 Ma saw Pa to his work day,
 And soon the heated kitchen melted the window’s frost away.
 The alarm that coaxed us wee tots from an iron-framed bed,
 Was often the aroma of freshly baked bread,
 The child who won the scramble downstairs to the main floor,
 Was she whose feet claimed center seat on the open oven door.
 Dreaded were trips to the outhouse during fierce wind or storm,
 And when I’d race Fear back over the well-worn track,
 To the cabin where I was born…
 I grew fonder of The House That Jack Built.
 It wasn’t unusual to answer a tap on the door to find a lonely hobo there,
 Hungering for a meal when we had less than our share,
 Still any drifter who approached was treated kindly,
 While Ma delivered take-out meals only,
 When Pa was home why he’d invite the tramp to tea,
 Honoring The House That Jack Built.
 When the calm replaced the storm of a July torrential rain, many kids would run,
 To grass-lined, water-filled ditches and play,
 Until intoxicated from over-indulgence of fun.
 Those same trenches became skating rinks during Winter,
 As did the dirt roads, St. Lawrence River, and winding creeks,
 But bonfires raged aglow, easing the nip of ice and snow,
 That clung to scarves, mittens, eyelashes, and seats.
 Tiny fingers and toes lost battles aplenty with Ole Jack Frost as did many an ear,
 But with painful unthaw of piggy, lobe, or paw, help was usually near.
 Family member, friend, or neighbor would heal the bites,
 With massage from hands that knew,
 The shivering agony that Ole Jack Frost could put a winter lover through.
(Continued in Part 2)
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