Here Have I Lived
The mud of an Ionian spring seeps from my marrow.
Mud which clings to the soul as easily as to a pair of boots;
Flows and spreads over fields and covers roads in clods left by combine tires.
Mud which stains welcome mats and good Sunday suits;
Covers tractors that part the rich soil and drop seed into the mire.
The explosion of a Rose Township fall fills my veins.
Overnight the land becomes a chill impressionist painting;
Bright reds and sharp angles pattern the ground -- black lines fracture woods.
Overnight hoarfrost replaces dew while north winds sing;
Leaves rustle, tumbling into foyers and filling children's pockets and hoods.
The bite of a Sault winter spreads through my gut.
Winds blow and turn gutters to ice as nights descend;
Sculpted drifts cover the tracks of deer and snowmachine.
Winds blow icy fingers through homes at day's end;
Aurora spreads across the sky -- whispers of our lives through mystic green.
The Hundred Ten Year Old Woman
(adapted from a Minnie Pearl routine)
Up here in the wilds above the Bridge,
Just last month in the old old-folks home,
A wrinkled woman celebrated one hundred ten years
And the paper promised a reporter would come.
The young cub stringer hid his nerves
As he politely snuck in the door,
And he politely asked where the party was held,
And politely slunk 'cross the floor.
He found the festivities quick enough
And sat beside a young nurse, who told
Him the woman was still in good health --
As spry as an eighty-year old.
He learned that this woman was an old maid
And had never been sick in her life.
That she whiled away hours tatting fake flowers
Or tooting on an old fife.
The cake was cut and some cheese was too,
And vintage wine was poured,
And a great-grand-nephew gave a speech
That lasted for just a few words.
Then the reporter came forward
And stammered through nervous fear,
"Is it true that you've never," he asked,
"Been sick in your hundred ten years?"
"You'll have to speak up Sonny."
She replied, then sat deathly still,
So he cleared his throat and let loose with
"I hear you've never been ill!"
"What?," plus the stern look upon her face,
Turned the boy's stomach to wood,
But he pushed on and cried
"HAVE YOU EVER BEEN BEDRIDDEN?" as loud as he could.
A puzzled look crossed her face,
"Oh my yes - hundreds of times it seems."
And after a moment's more contemplation,
"And onced in a buggy," she beamed.
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Submission Name: HereHaveILived&110YearOldWoman
