The Far Corner
by Satch

The handy man with axe in hand
and I behind with horse and plow,
set out to stake the garden lines
for spring and tender plants and vines.

It is late fall when we must call,
to sneak up on the sapless trees,
to turn out sleeping bugs and worms
to fight for food on equal terms.

Before our task, I hear him ask,
"How far back?  She'll but push so far."
How far is my lesson to learn
to keep close watch on her return.

Hard earn'd will be what crop I see
so far from easy sight and hoe,
for she'll await my least neglect
to reclaim her land, I suspect.

Neighbors will say, "Too far away!
You must stay close to tend the wild."
"No! I say. Keep her busy there
so I for closer loves can care."

There is no doubt she will find out,
and tho' she cannot be tricked,
I hope she will be amused,
And some vengeance is defused.

For it is she along with me
that work to bring the seedlings out.
There is surfeit in harmony
and bareness should we disagree.

Satch©2001

by Satch

He was aged and on welfare,
double cursed and now dying
in the front room near the coal stove
where relatives circled....crying.

Irregular dry breath crackles
followed by ominous pause
were repeated,...and then...
silence.

"Is he dead?",
Muffled hems and haws
come from those with the furtive eyes
who view his and their death with dread,
who know that life is all they have.

"Larry, go see if he is dead,"
says grandmother to grandson.
(Just a new unpracticed duty,
carried out by a twelve year old
where children must grow up quickly.)

The young man calls once and watches
for any response or chest rise
but there is no sign and no pulse.
He closes his grandfather's eyes.

"He is gone," he says.
The circle
breathes a long sigh of relief.
Some people look for things to take;
others sit consumed in grief.

There's never anything of value.
only memories and the hope
that some item will keep him close
to them,
so they can live and cope.

After all, life is all they have.

Satch©2001