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Cotton Fields

The devil’s dry fields dirt farm, not much yields damn sun one forlorn tree shields Texas battlefields the one recline that appeals low water reveals not done no reprieve day’s sun no wind, land barren poor crop windmill slow to run water still and dun well drop worn clothes overdone unbleached and homespun no fop dry, dingy sweatshop broken fence post prop damn sun blind heat nonstop a silent eavesdrop poor crop bleeding fingers mop hellish spinning top Grandma

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Panagiota Romios

Date: 3/27/2023 1:14:00 PM

Fabulous write, Linda. You make it easy to feel like it’s right before nY eyes And it has a rhythm to it that hums.. Pangie xo

Linda Alice Fowler
Date: 3/27/2023 1:52:00 PM

Thanks Pangie my friend. :)

Gershon Wolf

Date: 3/25/2023 9:10:00 PM

Wow. This sure does rustle up the imagery for me. (My maternal grandma was from Texas). ~ Sagebrush Sam

Linda Alice Fowler
Date: 3/26/2023 6:31:00 AM

Tough life. This is an image I conjured from stories about my paternal grandparents, especially about my grandmother. Thanks for reading and commenting gw! :) laf

Michelle Faulkner

Date: 3/24/2023 12:30:00 PM

I can see the hot dry Texas fields and the woman working in her worn out clothing, is this based on a memory?

Linda Alice Fowler
Date: 3/24/2023 3:32:00 PM

Thank you and yes, Michelle. I wrote about the stories I heard as a child, about my father's beginnings, and put them in this imagined form. I visited the farm many times and remember the old house, and the damp root cellar. I've a few other stories I may put in poetic form. :)