Poezja

Here is another true story poem (summer 1934)
about my grandmother (Ida McDermott) and my mother (Ruth)
who traveled every day between their farm at North Clayton, Wisconsin
to to deliver cream to Soldier's Grove as told to me by my mother.
(Told in 'first person' from my mother's perspective...)

I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.
all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.
But mom said no, I couldn't go. I rarely ever stayed -
but this time did so down I slid. I'm glad that I obeyed.

Our old wagon, always saggin' had rough, rugged boards -
but it did hold that precious load as she had started towards -
the creamery - a guarantee - of how we paid our bills -
in such a life, excessive strife - through vale against the hills.

She left that day on road of clay delivering with care -
four dusty mile - with grimaced smile - and cream that must get there.
Familiar sounds - some barking hounds, a crow up in a tree -
and tough routine, unlike a queen, that she would never see.

Out of the blue without a clue -around a curve and hill -
a drunken guy - flew passing by - like we were sitting still -
then ripped the side of Topsy's hide and threw mom off her seat.
She landed hard, but not too scarred, between the horses feet.

Though somewhat numb, she scrambled some from under hooves and wheels.
A bit perplexed, what happened next - she scrambled and did feel,
a massive rock where she took stock and hid as God provides.
Protected there in silent prayer from grace that never hides.

Some seconds spent, bewilderment, that held them there at bay -
so trampled not, she never got - before they ran away.
She tried to nurse ol' Topsy's curse. Oh, why did God allow -
old Topsy's death with its last breath and further hardships now?

The wagon load could not be sold. I thought that I would scream.
But mama taught that I ought not - to cry over spilled cream.
Is life not fair? Does God not care? Well, mama knew His way...
Obeyed was why - so safe was I. She thanked the Lord that day.

I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.
all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.
But mom said no, I couldn't go. I rarely ever stayed -
but this time did so down I slid - and glad that I obeyed.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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