Danny P. Barbare |
Riding to the mountains
the weather is quite kind as
patches of clouds
make quilt work along Highway
25 as I can’t even remember
how many times traveling
through Tuxedo
up to my aunt Luree’s and
uncle AV’s
on a gravel road where aunt
Sallie sat
in a rocking chair on her
front porch
with round glasses and
a bible on her lap
as Highway 26 could be
seen in the distance
beyond a red Mack Tractor
in a corn field.
I remember my uncle’s
Cub Cadet and their garden
that grew my aunt Luree’s
delicious cream corn. I really
need to keep up with my
cousins and not be like a
crow and a scarecrow
as they are not so faraway—
where the best apples grow.