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Picking Okra Was Before Child Abuse Or I'D Rather Eat a Possum
Picking Okra was Before Child Abuse or I'd Rather Eat a Possum By: Tom Wright 8/5/00 Layers of clouds lay overhead, perhaps a summer rain. Though tempted to denounce, as a child, I would refrain. A carpet of dust surrounds bare feet, large drops are now falling, Warm, as they hit my unclad back, while from a distance, Mother calling. Thunder cracking, lightening flashes, at first, just a bit, and near the porch, an aging poplar has taken a direct hit. Tell me again Mom, It's too dangerous to pick Okra,* but not to wash fruit jars. ** Now try convincing a " loggerhead " of that. *** Would rather play with my toy cars. Shou'da wore a shirt, Itching all over, Fried Okra sure is fun to eat, not so for a boy to pick. First, get the tub and take a Lysol bath, then maybe a treat. Valuable lessons they assured I was learning, and at some latter day, I'd use. But picking Okra has never helped, today, it's called Child Abuse. * (What lightening danger Mom, I got under a tree,) **1f I cut my hand on a jar, then you'll be sorry). ***(thought that was my name until Jr. high)
Copyright © 2024 Tom Wright. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things