The
inspiration for this poem comes from one of my Mom’s ‘Memory Stories’ and took
place during the late 1920’s to early 1930’s.
Summer
Visitors
They
came during the months of summer, arriving in a caravan
Of
wooden wagons laden with canvas, furniture, and pots, and pans
That
clanged the song of their arrival as they moved up the dirt road.
Horses
of black, and brown and spotted grey pulled the wagons
While
the new ponies of spring followed behind.
Papa
always let them camp on our land and supplied food for their stay
In
turn, they helped to work the farm and gave Papa ponies in trade;
And
our neighbors would come from miles around to have their fortunes told.
Although
not relations, Mama insisted we gave them proper honor,
And
spoke with respect, calling them Uncle Barney, Aunt Mary and Uncle Jim.
In
the evenings, while we sat in a circle around their campfires,
They
sang songs from their home country, so many miles away
Accompanied
by mandolins, guitars, fiddles, and tambourines.
And
as the red and orange flames danced and crackled
They
told stories of ghosts, and shift-changers, and apparitions.
When
the second big war came, Papa sold the farm,
And
I went away to another city for school.
From
that time on, our summer visitors ceased to come,
And
there were times I wondered where they’d gone.
But,
to this day I can still see them in my mind’s eye coming along our road.
And
I will always remember the songs they sang and the stories they told.
