Obeyed? 1-10-13

Here is another true story poem (summer 1934)

about my grandmother (Ida) and my mother (Ruth)

who traveled every day between their farm at North Clayton, Wisconsin

to to deliver cream to Soldier's Grove as told to me by my mother.

(Told in 'first person' from my mother's perspective...)

I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.

all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.

But mom said no, I couldn't go.  I rarely ever stayed -

but this time did so down I slid.  I'm glad that I obeyed.

Our old wagon, always saggin' had rough, rugged boards -

but it did hold that precious load as she had started towards -

the creamery - a guarantee - of how we paid our bills -

in such a life, excessive strife - through vale against the hills.

She left that day on road of clay delivering with care -

four dusty mile - with grimaced smile - and cream that must get there.

Familiar sounds - some barking hounds, a crow up in a tree -

and tough routine, unlike a queen, that she would never see.

Out of the blue without a clue -around a curve and hill -

a drunken guy - flew passing by - like we were sitting still -

then ripped the side of Topsy's hide and threw mom off her seat.

She landed hard, but not too scarred, between the horses feet.

Though somewhat numb, she scrambled some from under hooves and wheels.

A bit perplexed, what happened next - she scrambled and did feel,

a massive rock where she took stock and hid as God provides.

Protected there in silent prayer from grace that never hides.

Some seconds spent, bewilderment, that held them there at bay -

so trampled not, she never got - before they ran away.

She tried to nurse ol' Topsy's curse.  Oh, why did God allow -

old Topsy's death with its last breath and further hardships now?

The wagon load could not be sold.  I thought that I would scream.

But mama taught that I ought not - to cry over spilled cream.

Is life not fair?  Does God not care?  Well, mama knew His way...

Obeyed was why - so safe was I.  She thanked the Lord that day.

I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.

all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.

But mom said no, I couldn't go.  I rarely ever stayed -

but this time did so down I slid - and glad that I obeyed.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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If God We Trust 3-27-09

On a hill, on top of a tree,
a leaf so high went sailing free.
A hot air blast it had acquired,
and pushed it up, as it desired.

It flipped and turned on humid air
and tossed about without a care.
Higher, higher than ever before,
it loved the power, wanted more.

Reminding us, lest we forget,
the winds were not done with it yet.
That leaf blew high above our lawn.
Passed on over where it was drawn.

It blew across our grassy field -
down to a fence that wouldn't yield.
The wind prevailed - to free, it tried,
but there it stuck until it died.

The tree's still there, the roots confirm,
that it is strong and standing firm.
The hot air blew and now we know
that leaf was used by Satan's blow.

It flipped and turned up in the breeze,
and filled itself with selfish ease.
Hot air blows deception's air
but don't forget, we put them there.

So when we vote, let's choose the leaf
who's tested pure and not a thief.
For our tree stands and always will -
if God we trust and honor still.

©2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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