Remembering a Treasure

Today would be my Great Uncle Amos’ 115th birthday.  I grew up on his farm.  This is one of the first poems I wrote I was remotely happy with when looking back at it a month or two later (in 1986).

——-

Faith
for Uncle Amos (1895-1990)

When the old man checks the clover growing in the wheat
aaafield stubble,
or tills the garden behind the trailer with his 1950 vintage
aaaAllis-Chalmers,
he always takes along a faded blue broom handle
to ward off elephant stampedes.
(at least that’s what he tells me)
And it seems to work, as I never hear mention
of the need to smack a charging pachyderm
square between the eyes, like he says it must be done.
aaa“Down they’ll fall,” he says,
and I believe him.

Faith

for Uncle Amos (1895-1990)

When the old man checks the clover growing in the wheat

field stubble,

Or tills the garden behind the trailer with his 1950 vintage

Allis-Chalmers,

He always takes along a faded blue broom handle

to ward off elephant stampedes.

(at least that’s what he tells me)

And it seems to work, as I never hear mention

of the need to smack a charging pachyderm

Square between the eyes, like he says it must be done.

“Down they’ll fall,” he says,

And I believe him.

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4 thoughts on “Remembering a Treasure

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