when the moon was full,
grandpa and I would stay in town past sunset
the road home good, with few ruts, the pastures soft
silver in all that lunar light
his team was old, slow,
but grandpa knew no haste
even getting to the cellar, when
great twisters came
born the week Lincoln freed the slaves
he not once drove a car, though he lived
to read of Sputnik in the Gazette,
and died when JFK was elected
summers lasted a long time
with grandpa--I still see him. giving reins
a gentle shake, reminding his horses to pull us home
whistling to them, telling me tales
on a July night, the year of the Crash
he put his gaze on the fat orb, barely waning
“one day we'll put a man up there,” he proclaimed
but I thought he was pulling my leg
“have to put him in a cannon like,
enclosed in some hard shell, otherwise
we’d blow him all to hell, gettin' enough power
to loose the bounds of God's earth”
grandpa didn't live to hear Neil's famous words,
two score years after that summer night; though I yet hear the shod
hooves plodding, the wagon wheels rolling, and his words
soothsaying, whenever I gaze at a white moon’s face
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
when the moon was full,
grandpa and I would stay in town past sunset
the road home good, with few ruts, the pastures soft
silver in all that lunar light
his team was old, slow,
but grandpa knew no haste
even getting to the cellar, when
great twisters came
born the week Lincoln freed the slaves
he not once drove a car, though he lived
to read of Sputnik in the Gazette,
and died when JFK was elected
summers lasted a long time
with grandpa--I still see him. giving reins
a gentle shake, reminding his horses to pull us home
whistling to them, telling me tales
on a July night, the year of the Crash
he put his gaze on the fat orb, barely waning
“one day we'll put a man up there,” he proclaimed
but I thought he was pulling my leg
“have to put him in a cannon like,
enclosed in some hard shell, otherwise
we’d blow him all to hell, gettin' enough power
to loose the bounds of God's earth”
grandpa didn't live to hear Neil's famous words,
two score years after that summer night; though I yet hear the shod
hooves plodding, the wagon wheels rolling, and his words
soothsaying, whenever I gaze at a white moon’s face
Based on a true story, told to me by Bill E. Bill lived from 1919 to 2004 and recounted this story to me the last years of his life. The event occurred when Bill was 10, in 1929.
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