Post by stephengodfrey on Jan 26, 2011 8:24:15 GMT -5
The grand soft spring rain
sprawled across the front poarch tin roof.
Old oak rocking chairs creaking
on tongue-n-groove wood
slats; that hummed in unison.
I sat in a small chair
next to my Paw Paw and Uncle,
watching with amazement
at the fervor with which they rocked.
I remember their clothes;
denim jackets, pants and steel toed boots.
The pouch would come out of
a coat pocket. "Red Man,"
the favorite chaw of choice.
The rocking would continue
for hours without a single
phrase being uttered by either man.
They spoke a language only they knew.
Kin-folk, father and son- "Red Man."
The rain paraded it's splendor
and there was no need for a spittoon.
In a young boy's eyes,
It seemed they could spit a hundred feet.
Red and white pouch with
the strong tobacco smell stinging
your nose, watching, wondering
what they were thinking.
Again my silence is broken
by the fast paced rocking,
and I return from my day dream.
sprawled across the front poarch tin roof.
Old oak rocking chairs creaking
on tongue-n-groove wood
slats; that hummed in unison.
I sat in a small chair
next to my Paw Paw and Uncle,
watching with amazement
at the fervor with which they rocked.
I remember their clothes;
denim jackets, pants and steel toed boots.
The pouch would come out of
a coat pocket. "Red Man,"
the favorite chaw of choice.
The rocking would continue
for hours without a single
phrase being uttered by either man.
They spoke a language only they knew.
Kin-folk, father and son- "Red Man."
The rain paraded it's splendor
and there was no need for a spittoon.
In a young boy's eyes,
It seemed they could spit a hundred feet.
Red and white pouch with
the strong tobacco smell stinging
your nose, watching, wondering
what they were thinking.
Again my silence is broken
by the fast paced rocking,
and I return from my day dream.
