lived two years in a ghost town,
was a small graveyard
and a few cabins
there on the mountain
four or five folks lived within a few miles
a few more came on weekends
the judge married us there
amid a gathering of family and friends
we lived an hour from the nearest town,
our post office box,
traffic, a store or two
and people in general
electricity, none to speak of,
running water was a stream
and our well we pumped by hand
on a log tripod with wooden spool and rope
we had a battery powered radio
the scary programs on CBS mystery theater
was our nine p.m. entertainment
with a fire in the pot belly stove
and wind in the trees,
on moonless nights
after a scary show i’d accompany her
to the outhouse
once a park bear
that got too used to handouts
was dumped off in our part
and showed up on our porch
he got his nose
in some white lime powder
then stood on our porch on his hind legs
and left his powdery white nose print on our screen door
lucky for me he went away when i yelled at him
and he didn’t step through the screen into the kitchen
or it would have been suddenly
very crowded in there
stories and good times
we had a lot of them
our time in the woods
makes me smile thinking
Friday, April 09, 2010
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2 comments:
Reading this makes me smile, too. Thanks for posting this! Completely different, but it reminds me of the time, long before my son was born, when my husband and I camped out of our van for seven weeks in a row, touring the United States and staying in National Parks (motels every 4th or 5th day for full showers- the parks, at the time, didn't have any!)
This is the stuff great books are made of - it would be a terrific collaboration between you and the other great writer, M. You could organize it by writing separate essays and poems then weaving them into a continuous story. I know it will work. Get on it will you?! I can't wait to read it!
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