HARD WORKING MEN

Farmer’s boots full of mud

A fencing chore done in the rain

Posthole digging is tiring

Like digging a grave

A long day makes the whiskey quicker

No one looks anybody in the eye

Nerves are half broken; bones don’t need to be

Drink up and leave

Horses to feed and stall

Evening chores never ending

Children gleeful but careful

Do not upset the equilibrium

Tomorrow will bring whatever Saturdays bring

Men cleanup for dinner

Not much talk of the day

Wagon will be taken tomorrow

Supply list has been written

Mother feels good except for the rain

It continues day after day

Mud—mud—mud

Wet messes; shortages

Children are happy

No school—play in the wet

They know—stay happy

Work hard—don’t irritate

This is their life

Sometimes good; mostly difficult

Now and then bad

They are secure in knowing

This is how life is

The plains were not cruel

There were peaceful times; secure times

Sometimes fires wiped them out

But they emerged again

Too strong to lay down

Too bright to remember the bad

They grew and prospered

Built new schools

New towns and churches

They knew life and lived it

Loved what they did

Stanski

September 17, 2020