Under the belch of a 10-20 Titan tractor,
smell of hot bearings, grease and barley dust,
by the steel wheel, bowing belt and fly wheel,
the feeder, cutter, cylinder-cave,
rub-bar, shaker, sieve and fan, and
chaff blown from ripe grain.
There, under that sepia sky of hope and hard work,
my mother — not yet a mother —
in a dress and apron, holding a hay fork,
as though, in fact, embarking on three careers at once.
No clue as to her future status as Queen,
in the eyes of her five children;
No clue her love would cover so much territory,
her humility carry so much weight,
her gaze, her smile, would hold us, mold us,
grow us, each of us assured and content in knowing
we were on her short list of universal wonders.
“Mom, your prayers for harvest weather,
was our great treasure, today
because of you, for you, we go reaping and singing
that old song, “We shall come
Rejoicing.”
So beautiful Stephen! I pray I will be remembered with such fondness.
Thank you Ann!
Indeed! Indeed! Tears in my eyes!
Thanks Sam!
Beautiful indeed Stephen – once again you’ve captured and expressed my/our thoughts.
Thank you! – Liz
Thank you Liz!
Thanks Steve for saying in poetry what is wordless in our thoughts today.
Thanks Paul!
Great picture Steve ,, is your mother in the picture ,, I guess if she is she is wearing the white apron ??? Ah , yes I just realize you answer my question in your poem …. its great that she labelled the photo because many , many of my father,s pictures from the past have people I would love to know their names … best wishes Phil
Thanks for reading Phil. I wish all the photos were so labeled…but sometimes you have to go with your best guess.
I love how you start with talk of tractors and move into such tenderness and love. Lovely Steve!
Thanks so much Sue!
Nice Poem Steve !Clarence
Thank you Clarence!
Me too.. tears in my eyes. Thank you Steve. You always capture the essence.
Thanks Joanne!