A wonderful notion came to me today
Playing through my thoughts like a ballet
A time in the past it did playfully speak
About an old porch in Walkers Creek.
My pawpaw and mawmaw lived there
Eking out what the earth would share.
Following a stubborn mule down a row
Putting food on the table, pie ala crow.
A hard life of back-breaking chores
Just after the Second World War.
Plowing corn, pulling cotton to weigh
Hardly a smile except come Sunday.
Ahh, Sunday, that's when the kids came
Bringing grandchildren to great acclaim.
And old wood stove puts out fried chicken
Purple hull peas, cathead biscuits for sopping.
They all gather on the front porch to chat
Built three feet off the ground at that.
It’s a good time, women gossip loose lips
While the men sneak round back for a nip.
Smelly old aunts with their tipsy husbands
Rock and fan and laugh like they planned.
Mason jars are never empty of good sweet tea
Or spring fed water so cold its minus degrees.
As the shadows begin to lengthen at days end
An ice cream maker is fetched a voice says amen.
Smiles grow on the faces of the young and old
We are about to get something nice and cold.
Grandma makes up the vanilla batter
Pours it all in the aluminum canister.
Seals it and puts it in the wooden barrel
Add chunks of ice, salt, cranked by a male.
By the time the ice cream is finally done
Two pairs of shoulders weighs almost a ton.
But the result is so scrumptious and fine
Everybody pigs out like smelly old swine.
Later, stomachs bloated, they gather up
Their things to go, don't forget Millie's pup.
Go their separate ways until next Sunday
When back to pawpaw's porch they'll play. |
