You Have To Eat a Peck-Of-Dirt
you have to eat a peck-of-dirt
three little rag-a-muffins
sit, heads bent busy,
at a small wooden table
plunked down there
in Shadey Anderson’s hay field
dragged from the house
to that special spot for tea
fine chiana
a Christmas doll set
placed ever so carefully
by grubby play worn fingers
an ancient hickory shades
promises nuts for the table
later, in the fall,
when we sit together
among the roots
borrowed nutcrackers and picks
busy preparing a feast
for now tea is up
the delicately flowered pot
carefully filled with “tea”
from a puddle beneath the table.
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