Bad Years
Bad Years
By: Tom Wright
9-23-04
Twixt hard times, I scarcely remember,
though that's not to say there was no other.
Sleeping nights on a pallet till mid September,
under a willow tree, with Joe, my brother.
The hot July breeze
always brought an onslaught of harvest lice.
Riding the Zephyrs from fields being thrashed.
The nearing days of picking pumpkins would be nice,
scattered among cornstalks, together lashed.
Fall was nice
for that meant the weather would be cool.
But cotton fields begged to be stripped,
for school duds.
Too, that unsaid dread, of going back to school,
in clothes washed with brown lye soap,
that made no suds.
The Muskogee Free State Fair,
was a happening about this time.
The wildlife exhibits and livestock judging and care,
we could browse all day and not spend a dime.
Throughout this barn we would idly roam
securing things for free,
a winter stash of reading, to take back home.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2019
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