Debra Coppinger Hill

 

RED EARTH & GREEN WHEAT

   He never saw the ocean,
But he had waves of grain,
And he made a life of farming,
God willing and come good rain.

   In the dirt, he found his lifeblood,
For by no circumstance, it too was red.
It stained his hands and his heart,
Even the hat upon his head.

   She never saw the ocean,
But she had waves of grain,
Never went to cotillion,
But she danced with him in the rain.

   She never climbed a mountain,
But she kissed the open sky,
And laughed out loud and lived,
And looked at him and sighed.

   He shared it all with her,
She worked there by his side,
They loved each other and the land,
That spread for miles so wide.

   But, she went on before him,
And his heart, it did ache,
He sort of lost his will,
And time, his life, did take.

   So we took him back, to the place he loved,
Where in the spring, the wheat green grows,
And buried him there next to her,
Beneath the dark red dirt and the snow.

   Come spring, we will plant the land,
And the bins, we will be fillin',
And with luck, see them dance in the fields,
Come good rain, and God willin'.
 

Copyright©1998 Debra Coppinger Hill
All Rights Reserved
 
 

( About the same folks...only one of those light moments that makes a place in your heart and sticks there.  I still have a bottle of her Chantilly, and I take a whiff now and then to put things into perspective.)

MANURE & CHANTILLY

   The way she looked,
I remember it well,
But even more,
I remember the smell.

   She'd fix her hair and lipstick,
Put on a chambray shirt and jeans,
It was the same thing every morning,
The most familiar of scenes.

   Then she'd do the one thing,
That gave her the sparkle of a new filly,
She'd open up that round bottle,
And sprinkle on Chantilly.

   To us, it was wasted effort,
After all, she was headed out to farm,
At the end of the day, she'd be covered,
With all kinds of manure from the barn.

  But, one day when the work was over,
And the evening meal was set,
Her husband said something,
That's inside my head yet...

He watched her as she cooked,
And as she sashayed by,
He said (breathing deep) "Don't she smell sweet, like work?"
And a twinkle came to his eye.

   Suddenly I understood,
It made all her efforts worthwhile,
She had done it for Him,
And that broad, loving smile.

   Well, it changed the outlook that I had,
And you might think it's silly,
But, I tell you, there's something to be said,
For the smell of manure and Chantilly.
 

Copyright © 1998 Debra Coppinger Hill 
All Rights Reserved