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answers come later
by Charlie Morgani remember the tall oak trees;
country benchs trading bibles,
hoping for a shorter sermon in
the near-noon Word of the Lord.
the folding fans that all the old folks
carried like a watch-fob, ready for use.
my cousins and me, waiting for the closing
prayers so we could talk of girls and sex.
being from the city, i held court;
talking of the Karens, the Diannas,
the Lawandas, and the MaryAnns. it
was like country schools didn't have any.
as we played mumbly-peg, noses in the dirt,
our fantasies outrunning a Serengeti gazelle.
each of us wondering 'who would want to be buried
here by this oak grove?' with the crows cawing,
and the cows mooing, our questions went unanswered. 06/29/2011 Posted on 06/29/2011
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 06/29/11 at 03:23 PM This reads like a painting...and every line is needed as it leads up to that incredible last line....really good stuff here! Wow, retirement must be inflaming those creative juices, Charlie...I really enjoyed this. |
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