Philip Mygatt Poet Narrative

Watching Amos Plowing With Horses

“Howdy Amos”, “Howdy Seth”, without a glance.
Amos t’aint much for words as he stares straight ahead
His gaze as straight as his furrows.
Amos is what you might call a “deep thinker”.
I watch as he bounces up and down on the plow hitch
The bells on his mighty Percherons jingling with each practiced step
As they perform their timeworn ballet with Amos their choreographer.
I wonder what Amos is thinking and then I remember our last conversation.
Did I say Amos t’aint much for words?
Well, it seemed as though his “word dam” had finally overflowed
As he told me about the girl he met 
At the Limerick Town Hall dance last Saturday night.
He said he watched the most wonderful girl in the world dance with every guy
Who was standing in line for their turn listening
To the out-of-tune piano player and drummer 
Who called themselves the Limerick Two.
During the band’s first break, she came over to where Amos was sitting.
Smiling, she introduced herself as Irene from just down the street.
Amos didn’t disappoint her because, as usual, he was at a loss for words,
But he was a “deep thinker” 
And he was thinking she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Would you like to dance?” She asked. Amos just nodded his head.
Amos was the last guy she danced with that night
As Irene's waiting line kept getting longer and longer.
Amos said his feet didn’t touch the ground as he walked home
To West Newfield late that night.
Amos t’aint much for words, 
But when he speaks, his words, though few, are poetic.
As I watch Amos plowing with horses, I know what he’s thinking.
He’s thinking about next Saturday night and his first dance with Irene.  
I turn my back and continue my journey,
The sounds of the great Percheron’s bells fading in the distance
As Amos continues plowing with horses and dreaming of Irene.

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L Milton Hankins March 20, 2021 at 9:17 PM Oh, I love this one, Philip. I'm adding it to my FAVS. I rarely do that; short list. Your narration flows along so nicely, and I really enjoyed the repeating lines for emphasis and to help us know the main character better. Philip Mygatt February 7, 2022 at 2:54 PM This is a story about my late inlaws, Donald and Irene Peterson, from Limerick and West Newfield, Maine. Although he never plowed with horses, the rest of the story is true. They were married for sixty years before they passed a few years back. Their daughter, my late wife, Donna Peterson, is buried next to them in Limerick. Now you know the rest of the story. Thank you for your kind words.