Cona Adams Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

A true story!

Don'T Go To Wyoming Alone

He's a versatile "man of all trades,"
pursues anything new, virtually self-made.
He's a photographer, a minister and a poet,
immerses himself totally but before you know it

he's off and running, tackling something new
He's built homes, cell towers, churches, boss of the crew.
He publishes books, serves as president of our group
If something's happening he's never out of the loop.

A proud do-it-yourselfer, he repairs whatever breaks,
services cars, saws down trees, no matter what it takes.
He took voice lessons, learned to fly a plane,
changed the course of my life, but let me explain.

He was teaching, after hours, for extra money
"I'm saving this for a big vacation, honey.
We're going to Africa, we're gonna hunt big game
for a mere eight thousand, we'll have anything you name.

At this ranch in S. Africa, the wife's a gourmet cook,
irons your clothes while hubby shows where to look."
He built me a special gun, said I could learn to shoot;
took me to the practice range, bought pricey hunting boots.

I took Mother west to Casper visiting my younger sister.
We stayed four weeks in Wyoming because Mom missed her.
Returning home to Missouri, I was surprised to see
he'd purchased a quarter-share in a Cherokee.

I didn't mind much, after initial fear had waned;
I enjoyed seeing America, flying the skies in that plane.
We moved out of St. Louis away from all the noise
built our "old folks home" with retirement as the ploy.

Another trip to Wyoming alone, without my mate
That Piper 235 is history; I returned, alas, too late.
He'd sold his beloved plane and purchased something new,
a grand New Holland tractor painted blue, with a neon hue.

Now he's mowing ten acres and grading a gravel road,
plowing up the garden, with me sharing the load.
My life changed drastically with all my options gone.
If you plan to hunt in Africa, don't go to Wyoming alone.

You must listen closely now for the most important factor,
that's how my trip to Africa eventually became a tractor.

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Gary Bateman October 8, 2014 at 4:22 AM Cona, I read your sonnets of course and understand the narrative connect. Great write and story here my friend. Cheers and Best Wishes, Gary Cona Adams October 8, 2014 at 5:45 AM Thank you, Gary. I read your poem from the dark side, and, as Mother would say, "It gave me the shivers," which means I was shuddering in my boots. It was definitely a "WOW" read!