Sitting Kentucky Mother's Mind

There's a rocking chair
on her porch that faces
the sunset and every
evening after her labors
are through she lowers herself
(like one would handle a
Ming vase when packing it)
safely into the wicker chair so
that she may sit and watch
the sun go down-

(memories;
yes, life is a sun-path)
rising at birth, shinning bright
in the middle, and slowly
sinking towards
the end.

The radio beside
her is playing tunes of
yesteryear, old records
of voices, the sound of her
parents, her children, the
clack of horses, the
roar of airplanes-
but it's not on
She looks down at it
and with a spidery hand
turns up the volume
(it's not plugged in...)
and hears louder the
sound of jowl bacon
frying on the skillet
and smells corn bread being
baked in an iron frying pan.

There's leather britches
soaking on the counter
(she'd much rather have dried
green beans than dried pinto
beans.)
And it's very, very rare that
there be anything on the stove
other than beans and hoecakes.

Lord ha'm mercy!
She's ate her weight in beans!

Outside the children are
playing and she's begging her
mom for a nickel to go get a
soda pop at The General.
Her mom looks at her, shakes
her head, and turns to put the
kettle of softened beans on the
wood stove to boil.
She frowns at her shoes
(dust covered hand-me-
downs, she can see her little
pink toes poking through-
they only buy one pair a year and
she'd like to keep'em clean)
and feeling selfish,
hugs her momma. There's a
rip in her worn-thin apron and
the little girl commits it to
mind to mend the tear. It will
be a surprise. She leaves to
play.

"Doodle bug, doodle bug,
your house in on fire!" chant
children who drive straw
stakes into tiny holes (doodle
bug houses) waiting for tiny
bugs to clime the poles.
There's "Red Rover" at
Tommy's house and "Crack
the Whip" near Susana's, the
older boys have gone fishing
and the girls play with
makeshift dolls of corn
shuck and their mother's old
handkerchiefs.