Submitted to Street Roots 06-12-2017
By Aileen McPherson
Simple Times
We never know how far we’ll go, when life pulls us too and fro, through mountains cold, over rivers bold, past an ocean vast, along a path to a house old it looked as if the forest round should swallow whole.
Not much to look at slat board walls, moss encrusted small garage where stuff got lost in, twas the yard loved most beautiful trees full of ghosts, as spanish moss hung like tinsel on the Christmas tree, ornaments of sweet meats rain down around, waiting for little hands to collect in baskets, these gifts upon the ground, crack them open here and there payment for our work dear.
Crisp clean air, squirrels everywhere, hear her calls chilins come in the night is falling, bring your gatherings its time to make pies divine, pecan you see gran mama made the best, we shelled all from baskets small , three pies in time, so delicious worth it all.
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