Mailman

In my day, the mail carrier was called the Mailman.
However, I don't recall any women choosing the profession.
He came to our house twice a day.
Once in the morning,
And once in the afternoon.
 
Time went slower then
and he had time.
He could deliver the mail
and talk to us kids a while too.
 
Once when he came by
we were playing mumbly-peg.
He asked what we were doing
and we showed him.
 
He got out his own knife
Balanced it on his finger
and ka chunk, it stuck expertly the first time.
His blade stuck in the ground every time.
 
Mine came a little too close to my toes
but stuck. He complimented the risky landing
then folded up his knife and put it back
in the mail bag draped over his shoulder.
 
The leather, old and very worn 
gave way on the edge where he reached in
for the letter that needed to be delivered next door.
Leaning into the weight of the bag,
he was on his way.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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Timperley Avatar
May 6, 2015 at 8:18 AM
Oh how I love nostalgia. Now I am of an age when I can write history! I have a couple similar in my scribblings. God Bless. D.
Suzadail Jr. Avatar
September 24, 2011 at 10:19 AM
Those were the days. Congrats Judith on "Mailman" being featured. I remember dressing up as a cowboy for Halloween and going to school with holsters and toy guns on my hips. Our mailman would bring our mail in the house and drop it off on the coffee table. No one ever knocked and no door ever got locked. Vince
Brown Avatar
September 21, 2011 at 8:07 AM
Congratulations on your featured poem this week Judith. Love, Carol
Degenhardt Avatar
June 10, 2008 at 9:58 AM
You give life to this mailman, for he is more than his chosen field. Wonderful imagery and clear truth of the past. A marvelous flowing write. Michael
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