Sarah Payne
4-8-02
More relatives than I’ve ever seen
Line the rooms in the big house.
Escaping outside for a breath of air,
I peer at the plump, green tomatoes
And the squash who are the weird relatives
Of the garden. Suddenly I am swept up
In a furry of cousins both first and distant.
We hike down through the grassy cow’s pasture
And climb to the top of the yellowish-grey hay bales
That loom above us like giant lumps of shredded wheat.
We leap from one to the next in a airborne game of tag,
Then remebering our trip we head back to the path
Watching out for the oozing fresh cow pies and
Ducking down under the dew dripping honeysuckle bushes.
Skipping our way through the cool stream
We balance our gumby bodies on the slippery stones
Which get progressively steeper as the stream
Drops suddenly, bouncing and gushing into
The frothing white mouth below.
We enter the loft from all sides,
Some up the ricketdy ladder missing a rung
Others sneak up the hay conveyer belt.
We divide up, Petty’s versus Payne’s,
And a time limit to make preparations is set.
Now its time make the best fort yet
The hay is piled as high as the ceiling,
And tunnels are made for hiding and spying.
Johnny piles corn cob ammo in the corner
While Daniel uses string to make webs for protection.
Busily engaged, we had no time for fear of snakes or rats
That were surely hiding under our feet
Finally, everything was ready--the attack was launched!
Cobs flew through the air and I was sent
To break in and destroy the enemy’s fort.
Weary and tired we returned from the barn,
As filthy soilders returning from battle
To feast together at the children’s table.
The bitter and cruel ice storm left behind
Delicate glass encasings on every surface
From magnificent magnolia leafs to petite twigs
What great dishes these will make!
Surely we will dine well today with
Snow cream desserts and mint ice tea!
But before I could plan my winter picnic,
My playmates decided the afternoon
Would be better spent tobogganing
Down the pasture hill which had been transformed
Into a slippery path that ended in ramp
Which flug us high above the ground
And caught us again in pillowly snow softness.
Exhausted and happy we end the day,
Slipping under cozy warm blanket, and waiting
For the following morning which will bring
Presents from Santa, a new art set I hope!
It was full of oldness and dankness,
But held treasures uncounted for
My playmates and I who discovered it.
For it was our generation’s turn to
Transform it into a schoolroom where we
Were the teachers instead of the taught,
Or a ballroom where a dance was to be held.
I found my ballgown in the rusty dusty trunk
Underneath the bag of old velvet hats
Next to shoes that matched its rosy shade exactly.
It flowed around me while brushing the ground
And after I was all dressed up
I looked around for my charming prince
But he had found the old cars,
War figures, and Dinosaurs.
And was too busy engaged in
The War of Automobiles vs War Hero on Dinosaur’s Back
To take this little woman to the big dance.
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