Editor's Note: When we first moved to the farmhouse where I spent most of my childhood years, it was in serious need of rehabilitation and had no indoor "facility." To make things more convenient for everyone, especially a third-grader who was afraid of anything that crawled or flew, my mother provided (and kept emptied) a chamber pot in one of the hallways. Needless to say, a bathroom was the second thing my dad installed in the house as they remodeled -- a wood-burning stove was the first.
We had no bathroom in our house
When I was just a lad.
Out back, we had a beaten path
That led to what we had.
One winter evening, Grandpa
Took a sudden notion, quite,
And made a quick departure
Out the door into the night.
A moment later, long and loud,
We heard the old man shout.
And everybody rushed to see
What the fuss was all about.
Halfway down the privy path,
There, in the lantern's glow,
Grandpa lay upon his back
Half buried in the snow.
It seems he hooked his chin upon
The clothing line as he sped.
It flipped him for a loop-the-loop
And stood him on his head.
To our relief, Grandpa declared
He wasn't hurt at all.
A lucky thing that bank of snow
Was there to break his fall.
His philosophic words belied
The frown upon his brow.
"Oh well," he said, "I don't suppose
I'd 'a' made it anyhow!"
--Autumn Acres (1982)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment