Sandy gray soil and emerald-green grass,
Pine needles and cones under smooth glass,
Butter beans, lettuce and sweet peas arise
In front of the house where my aunt’s garden lies.

A vigorous breeze through the pine weaves,
Applause for the season springs from brown leaves,
And dance with the four o’clock’s on the way down,
To form a soft cushion of brush on the ground.

The geese overhead uniformly fly –
Honk, honk, honk, honk – way up in the sky.
Aunt Snooky’s busy in the kitchen fixin’
Chicken and dumplings, and Mamma is mixin’

A strawberry short cake topped up with cream,
While I take a walk down by the stream;
And return to my childhood and visit the places,
When Rosepine was mostly wide-open spaces.

I’m five years old all over again,
Chasing plump chickens in the back pen,
And there’s one that Grandma has to out run,
So she’ll have it for us for dinner by one.

Back in the kitchen, Grandpa is drinking,
And it’s hard to tell what Grandma is thinking.
At 10 A.M. the songs on the radio
'Cause Grandpa to dance and put on a show.

They’re gone now, but the memories remain.
Behind the house I still hear the train.
Jerry Lee Lewis and “Shakin’ Goin’ On”
Blare from the windows and out to the lawn.

There’s watermelon ready for me to eat
Outside on the back steps in summer heat;
And as I slurp, the juice dribbles down
My chin to my chest to my feet to the ground.

The mixture of watermelon juice and of dust
Make tracks on my legs that turn into crust.
The need for a bath is eminently clear,
But there’s only two inches of bath water here.

The level of water is low in the well,
And when it will rain is hard to tell.
As nighttime settles deep down in the pine,
I long to hear the screech owl’s whine.

But out from the past, I stroll up the walk,
And check to see that it’s now two o’clock.
Dinner is ready and waiting inside.
Feeling hungry, I pick up my stride.

Things haven’t changed around here that much.
Aunt Snooky still has a kind tender touch
For soft fluffy cats and abandoned dogs,
And out in the back pen, I pass the hogs.

Uncle John’s got a fire goin’ in the back,
And getting a hog ready for the rack,
And as I walk past I can hear Johnny’s boast,
“Sausage and bacon and ham and pork roast.”

And now I head to the house for the meal,
And eat so much as to make the pig squeal,
And gossip is the talk at the table,
About old friends and kinfolk and cable.

“You’d think they could get cable out here.
Wasn’t Aunt Minnie really a dear?
Did you hear 'bout Danny and Donna Sue?
They’re getting married in a month or two.

“What’s that you say?  It can’t be true,
It seems that Bobby has a loose screw,
And hasn’t worked in many a day,
And Chester moved down by the bay.”

With dinner complete, it’s time to go home;
A last look at where I once roamed,
Then to the cemetery on the way out,
To visit Dad’s grave at the turnabout.

On the way home as we leave the pine,
I think on the past for one last time.
The colors and smells and sounds linger on,
And I know they’ll be there even after I’m gone.