Dark fell a little after four,
We hustled round to do each chore,
Throw fragrant hay down from the mow
We’d hear them stamp and grind away
With warm, safe sounds as if to say
A thankful prayer, for warm, snug barn
Against the north wind on the farm.
We took the lantern off the nail,
Turned up our collars to the gale,
Tramped down the path we knew so well
To lamplit kitchen, heavenly smells
Of pies and hot bread filled the air.
We’d leave our mittens on a chair
And laugh and shove around the sink.
We owned no car, no coats of mink,
No telephone, no radio,
No nearby town to see a show,
But on a table richly spread,
Was ham and eggs, brown home-baked bread,
A roll of butter, freshly churned
And appetites by labor earned.
We’d gather by the big stove then
Read Little Women, Little Men,
Have bright red apples, cider too,
Make “lasses candy,” sister Sue
Would make huge snowy popcorn balls
And give them out to one and all,
Then as the clock crept up to nine,
We’d toast ourselves and form a line
Around the heater, glowing red,
Before our icy plunge to bed.
We’d snuggle in the feathers there
While round our heads, the clean, cold air
Sighed and whispered and died again…
We drifted off on dreamland’s train.
Published by Ideals