May 24, 2010
Graphic by MamaBear
Back in The Day
Back in the day …
We’d pile the boys in back,
And drive down the road to the crossing,
Where Farmer George’s field was laying fallow,
For about the fourteenth year,
And the ruts between the bases,
Looked like plow marks,
Made by boots and by bare feet,
Of well-tanned lads in overalls,
And little else but grins and freckles.
Back in the day …
We’d stop beside the creek after the ball game,
And swing out for a drop into the coolness,
Of a shaded depth of water, too lazy in the summer,
To go out into the sunny parts downstream,
Where work was to be done,
In turning wheels to grind our well-earned grain,
For making bread to sop up the real food,
Of meat that went unwillingly to Heaven,
Protesting in its innocence and fear.
Back in the day …
That lasted near a week of sunny hours,
From the morning light that wound the rooster,
To the last gray dusk that showed the bats the way,
To dust away the wisps of cloudy cobwebs,
That kept the stars from shining bright,
In nights that settled into peaceful silence,
With only pops and fizzles from the fire,
Left banked to sleep until the morning,
When biscuits needed waking for the day,
Back in the day ...
NicknamedBob ...... June 1, 2008
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