One man walks out, about his realm.
He surveys what he knows is there.
His orchards stretched in soldier lines.
Fat with apple, quince, and pear.
His barns stand straight, new-painted red.
The silo bulge'n - life within.
Hay rows tedder'd, set for bale'n.
Bessie clangs her bell of tin.
Gold leaves top the warm tobacco.
Flavored by the fragrant pine.
Maples turn'n red and orange.
Cherries dried for sweet dark wine.
One man's neck is red and wrinkled.
Blue eyes crinkled from the sun.
Calloused hands still tender, care'n
Keep his precious world - hard won.
© Naomi Marshall 2017
YOU ARE READING
Chicken Teeth
PoetryIt's my pleasure to share this eclectic mix of poem, prose, and song. These are stories from the Tidewater: that gentle land that slopes into the sea and cradles the Great Dismal Swamp. I hope you enjoy the read'n of em as much as I have enjoyed...
