Old Enough
I get up early cause I know Pearl will make biscuits, eggs, and crisp bacon and let me lick the warm salty lard with my fingers from the skillet once it cools off. I watch her go "mmmm, mmmm" and squeeze her lips into a smile. She starts the percolator for Paw-Paw, pours me a big glass of ice cold milk and stands over me saying, "drink it down." Pearl always makes hard things seem easy, not so good days feel okay and I wish she were my Momma. We don't look the same but if she asked me to be her child I'd be the luckiest girl alive. She pulls my fingers out of my mouth, " you get worms now, hear me?" I most definitely don't want worms so I am really trying to stop chewing my nails. Pearl's nails are always clean, trimmed, with a clear, shiny gloss. Her lips are full, ripe, like a fresh dark purple plum. She has fine teeth, big hazel eyes and wears tiny gold studs in each earlobe. I want earrings, but the thought of a needle being pushed though my ear doesn't sound like it's worth the trouble, at least right now. I would like some tap shoes though. Pearl laughs when I tell her about my dancing dreams. She says I have happy feet cause I am wiggling my toes all the time. When Paw-Paw goes out on the porch to smoke his pipe I always show him my latest moves. After breakfast, Pearl starts washing our sheets and says there is a dust bunny under my bed. I don't want to look. I scare myself enough just looking at hobos. Anyway, back to the railroad. Just can't help myself. I don't curse, smoke, steal or commit sins that I know of, but I can tell you right here and right now, hobos teach and preach more than any one body needs. I confess I became on friendly terms with a man named Hank. He'd wave and say, " Hey, May! Keep smilin' kiddo!" and he'd sometimes be laying in the shade right calm when I snuck up to see him. He always looked sad just before he caught sight of me. Soon as my big trap started jabbering he'd change like a chameleon. That is, he'd try to make life seem so fine. I new he was hungry. I started taking biscuits on the days I figured he'd be around and he was always obliged. Just like the song, Mr. Bojangles, I began to show off my dancing moves to cheer ole Hank up. How is it we just know someone isn't happy? He laughed and smiled; in my mind he had a harmonica or some groovy steps he'd show me, but he never did. When the rest of the jumpers, as he referred to his fellow train hopping hobos as, came around he'd shoo me off. He told me in a kind, yet tough way to go on home. Where Hank went I never knew; in my heart I liked to hold it was somewhere much better than the hard ass dirt he slept on, full of God only knows what, and lonesome nights with an empty belly and mosquitos. Back home, I'm hosed down. Pearl gives me a hard stare; I am guessing she is guessing where the heck I've been. I am full of cockleburs, red from the sun. She leaves Paw-Paw and me my favourite, whipped cream and orange jello. I always hug her when she heads back to the place she calls home; I will make sure that this summer I follow Pearl like a cat stalks, curious that is, not aiming to find trouble. Late, when Paw-Paw is loving his heap of second helpings from supper, I ease out from my bedroom and stand right in front of the late night news. Paw-Paw's old Grandpa eyes widen and I start dancing; I pretend to tap dance and point my toes toward the ceiling fan, clap my hands and fall onto the thick, Persian patterned carpet. Paw-Paw laughs with his belly bouncing. I guess for now, summer is getting off to a good start. I slink down the long hallway and slither into bed. I wonder where Hank is now; Memphis, Baton Rouge, New Orleans? By now, hobos, I mean, jumpers, could be anywhere. I say out loud as if I am praying, "Goodnight jumper Hank; goodnight Pearl". I wiggle my toes one more time, roll over toward the moon shining through my window and smile.
Comments (15)
Nature is definitely the puret magic. Loved the personification of thunder - and yeah it does have a way of waking you the heck up! I love a good storm TBF Brilliantly crafted as always!
This was so very well written. Excellent job!!!
This was beautifully written. New subscriber!
Beautiful. It's very hopeful small things are sometimes the best things to use to hold on to hope.
I’ve always agreed that nature is magical. No one could convince me otherwise. Just look at a sunset after a storm, or the moon during an eclipse. Just… magical. I love this poem <3
Suze, this was such a beautiful tribute to the mundane and things often overlooked! I love rain and this had me yearning for spring time! Great work!
Love it! I could feel magic flourish in every corner of my room. And then your poem came to an end - and no magic, not anymore. But it was so close, indeed!
Oh wow! I am so glad Poppy shared this on her post. This was a stunning look at how magic can be found just about anywhere if you look for it and learn to appreciate it. Lovely words, Suze! Gorgeous work!
Misty, Please read my poems in the short and sweet contest
Hey, just letting you know I shared this poem in a story on my profile: https://vocal.media/poets/poppy-s-preferences
Oh just incredible. I love the way you frame some of the more negative or mundane things as magic, and unify them all as of a kind. It speaks to an optimism I don’t see too much and I loved immersing myself in it. 💜👏👏👏
Nice please read my live poems
This is just beautiful. “Look how it trickles and falls, in tears and exhalations” and “ Even the leak gathering on the floorboards, because we've lived here for three years and today is the first time the rain fell sideways” is my favourite. Definitely deserves a top story
Oh gosh, the imagery here is sublime. Every line told a story and I loved that! Stunningly written :)
I love this poem so much. I also learned how to look for magic in the mundane. It's everywhere if we're willing to see it. Bravo