In All Seasons
In Autumn,
He was in-house forts
built with chairs, worn bed sheets
and the whirl of an electric fan.
He was the knee-horse
bucking you through
that old "field tum a wield."
In Winter,
He was the recipe
of drowsy mornings, mixed heartily
with cartoons and cereal
baked in the glow of a well-stoked fire.
He was 3 AM Christmas mornings
of a letter to Santa that came true
by that austere Christmas fir.
In Spring,
He was the song
"Doodle-bug, won't you come out tonight"
accompanied by the sounds of tractor tinkering.
He was a day of long walks
down that yellow dirt road
that always lead to my
favorite candy bar and Coke.
In Summer,
He was tractor rides
catered with iced watermelon
and straight-from-the-field sugar cane.
He was a push on the tattered rope tree swing
that sent you to the heavens and back.
In all seasons,
He was a child's day of play
that even the sunset could not end.
But mostly, he was my grandaddy,
this child's best friend.
3 comments:
sweet. I LOVE your poetry
Yet one more thing we have in common. My grandaddy was my very best friend until I met my hubby!
For me he was juicy red tomatoes, banana peppers, and fried chicken legs. Lawrence Welk, the Walton's, and the Duke's. Hand-built swing sets, my first step-stool, and groceries for my first kitchen.
Can you tell I love this post?!
What a heart warming poem, I could see through your words, my own Grandfather. Thanks for sharing.
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