When I trek to the bird feeder,
following my own footprints
the few yards through yesterday's snow,
my heart retraces other paths with other persons:
Dad's momma, halfway up an Ozark hill,
with her post-Great Depression blend
of the frugal and generous, scraping
every last scrap of leftover food stuff
into the ditch, for whatever creature comes by--
Mom's dad, concocting meals for dogs and cats,
calves and cardinals and finches--
each feeding following another
in the measured pace of the farmer's aging gait.
I come in, and think of coffee break--
something sweet and warm salvaged
from the rigors of the day.
following my own footprints
the few yards through yesterday's snow,
my heart retraces other paths with other persons:
Dad's momma, halfway up an Ozark hill,
with her post-Great Depression blend
of the frugal and generous, scraping
every last scrap of leftover food stuff
into the ditch, for whatever creature comes by--
Mom's dad, concocting meals for dogs and cats,
calves and cardinals and finches--
each feeding following another
in the measured pace of the farmer's aging gait.
I come in, and think of coffee break--
something sweet and warm salvaged
from the rigors of the day.
I like this poem a lot, for the subtle musicality of the lines, for the appreciation of family, and most especially for the mentioning of coffee! As always, excellent job.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Tom! Coffee break is one of my especially fond memories. (I was too young for coffee, but not for the doughnuts or scotcheroos which accompanied it!)
DeleteScotcheroos?
DeleteLike Rice Krispies treats, except with corn syrup and peanut butter instead of marshmallows. Also with melted chocolate chips and butterscotch chips on top.
Delete