Our barns, across the creek
From one another --they light
Cooking fires for their workers.
This time, it looked different:
A luring, dancing devil daring
Me to do something naughty--
Sneak a beer or cigarette, where
I might be found by adults with
Eyes smoldering as if fire
Raged inside them, but now...
I am the adult, an old one too.
I still sneak off behind the barn
But find nothing to do.
Hah! Wonderful ending, Geo. :)
ReplyDeleteFirelight is mesmerizing, although I suspect it is less so when you're worried about it spreading. But they have to eat, too . . . which brings me to the question: do the workers really cook on a fire? That is somewhat heartbreaking.
Yes Jenny, they do cook on a fire. The owners have opened their properties to workers trying to get on irrigation crews and, later harvest crews. Aromas from fire are quite appetizing and later, they sing Ranchera and Mariachi songs. For many years, I have walked out behind my own barn (which I built myself) and listened. Not heartbreaking; fun, keeping their spirits up. Most of their money is sent home to their families. I worked in such company in the 1960s --they needed U.S. wages and we needed them.
DeleteThe difference between 9 and 69 is not only the years, but the lessons learned. We sure had some fun learning them though.
ReplyDeleteDear Arleen, We learned indeed --and had fun. If we divide the years by the fun, I think the quotient would yield an A+ , which I happily confer upon you.
DeleteI think we both have had a good ride, but we have miles to go before we sleep,
DeleteThat is certain, Kindred Soul:
Delete"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But (We) have promises to keep..."
And maybe an old gentle poet to welcome us.
Oh how touching...and exactly as I feel these days too!
ReplyDeleteBeen doing a lot of reminiscing recently...and revisiting scenes from my youth. Never quite the same unfortunately, is it? It's like the magic has vanished...
Such a gorgeous poem...speaks volumes...😊😊
Have a fabulous weekend!
Magical Ygraine, "the magic has vanished..."? Yes but it's only invisible --vanished, not perished-- and can still be heard giggling sometimes. It laughs because it's in you.
DeleteI felt this poem.
ReplyDeleteR
Thanks Rick, Next time I sneak a beer, I'll think of you.
Delete9 and 69 .... there's a difference?????
ReplyDeleteDear Delores, no difference really. That 6 is just another 9 that toppled in upside down by accident. My typing is prone to such mishaps.
DeleteOh thank goodness....I had an awful icy feeling that maybe I was supposed to grow up lol.
DeleteI am sixty nine and I am still worried about doing anything out of order.
ReplyDeleteAt nine I would want to take up on the dare of coloring my hair funny colors but would be scared of my parents and other elders. Now that I do need to color my hair, my kids suggest that I color them as close as possible to my own hair color was, before I started turning gray. I still want to add funny highlights but do not want to disappoint my kids or my younger siblings.
Your poem made me realize that basically I am not too different from when I was a kid.
Oh, Norma's photography is one of a kind and the flame does look like it is teasing us.
.
Dear Munir, You have certainly brought some light into my evening. I read your comment aloud to Norma and she was most pleased and extends thanks --as do I.
DeleteThat youthful thrill of rebellion - it can't be replicated, can it? I used to elate in it, not from smoking or drinking, but from t.p.ing (decorating with lots of toilet paper) neighbors' homes. Thanks for bringing us back, Geo, and reminding us how precious each moment is. That's what I took from this.
ReplyDeleteTake gentle care, my friend.
Lovely Robyn, TP-ing houses was a great group activity when I was a kid --although I lived in the country and every homeowner had a dog and shotgun, so I refrained-- but we did put on skits at school. One involved a map-table with several uniformed figures seriously discussing strategy. Then some 7th grade wag (won't mention who) ran disheveled onstage, staggering and waving an improvised flag of half-unrolled toilet tissue on a stick. He shouted, "Captain! Oh Captain! The rear's been wiped out!", then ran off. Rest of the cast did too. They were grateful.
DeleteWe used to take great delight in lighting matches... we never set anything on fire it was just the thrill of lighting them.
ReplyDeleteDear Cherie, Thrill understood and shared. Even if that's all we did, we were still careful not to destroy anything. That set us apart from radical firebrands.
Deletethis is Sweet dear Geo :)
ReplyDeletei never played with fire by lighting match though but when i was little we had a clay stove in our front yard like all other houses in village
and it was quite adventure to look mom put dry wood sticks in and some dry grass to lit it up
the warmth and coziness brought by such stoves was highlight of winters then
all sitting around the stove warming their hands and chatting and laughing are sights that stir in my mind every winter
mischievousness of childhood and sobriety of old age are sublimely done in your beautiful poem
My dear Baili, thanks for this beautiful tableau of togetherness. The bright and gentle light you evoke is surely a symbol of community and good cheer. These are moments that call us back to warmth and affection.
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