Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Summer

On the wall above my computer is my painting of "The Farm, Summer Day." I like to look at it as I work. You can see it on my website on this page:

http://members.purespeed.com/~peo/places.html

Summer

I am driving the road from town
To home, the farm
Upon which I grew up.
It is June. The weather is warm,
But not hot. The perennial breeze,
Today a soft baby’s breath,
Wafts in from the lake, Superior.
I’ve picked up butter, a dozen eggs
From the aging Piggly Wiggly for my parents,
Both alive and well,
Though Dad has had
A little heart trouble.
Like the weather I am serene,
Content,
Glad to be heading back to pull weeds,
Another summer, from Dad’s garden,
Glad to be home for the week,
To have this home to come home to,
These parents, still, to visit,
The luscious day,
The family farm, the growing garden, a life
That lets me do this.
I wonder how long
I’ll have it all.

In March,
Dad’s heart gives out.

My brothers plant the garden now.
Some summer soon,
Maybe,
I can bring myself
To pull the weeds again.

P.E. Ortman

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