at POP'S PLACE,
down in the "land of cotton,
where I was born in..."
("Look away, look away...")
Down in sandy Dawson Co. Texas.
It stands there today...like some
"banquet hall deserted..."
All the people who once gathered
for fun, farm-happy times...
are gone
Except for four of five
of the youngest. but even
they---are aging...
Alas, much of the once-splendid
new farm from 1938...
has disappeared.
The finest rock fence is gone...
Even the three car garage is gone...
The elm windbreak and
the rows of elms around the house,
are gone.
The grape arbor is gone,
and the rose garden...
Worst thing---there is no more windmill
with its homey gentle clang--
clangs... as if speaking of untold things
on warm fall afternoon
breezes...
The outbuildings remaining-- need paint...
The house itself stands lonely-like,
but refurbished with brick...
so it will last, physically---
But its heart may be another story,
It is like an old devoted dog,
left behind...but faithfully waiting.
There is almost an ache about the
eighty-year-old house
as it sits there, alone, month after
month, year after year....
A certain wistfulness hangs over
the big empty dining room
table, with the withered flowers
in the vase from some
unremembered time...
Hearty, laughing times---
Coffee, ham, sausage and
eggs, biscuits and gravy, grits
floating in butter...
Farm suppers, when the company
came...grandma brought
out the red-checked oil cloth and
had fried chicken, mashed
potatoes, black eye peas, corn-on-
the-cob, fried okra, squash,
corn bread, cantaloupe, and
watermelons...
A hand-cranked freezer of ice
cream, right off the farm...
maybe strawberry..or peach!
Then the unforgettable holiday
dinners...with turkey and
corn bread dressing...
But the farm house and the
dining room are all silent
today...the sounds of happy
conversation, jokes,
laughter, and fellowship
gone...tho' maybe still
echoing through the universe
somewhere...
The folks are gone, all but
three or four ----
they're now resting eternally in
a half-dozen places.
surrounded by green grass,
rocks, and flowers...
We open the window in the
always cozy front BR,
and the sheers billow out,
as the fresh breeze blows
through the old house...
Ah, the wind senses the stillness
of POP'S Place, today,
and THE WIND...it always seems
wise...and knows things...
a lot of things...
And it seems to be whispering...
something.
+++++++++
BY MIL
JULY 5, 2015
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