Mamie's Vinyard Poem by Josette Lager

In the late afternoon on
a beautifull autumn day,
the old maple tree is shedding
her glory, summer left too soon,
I can still recall how hot it was
way back in June.

The beauty that lies before me
is a striking array of color, lemon
yellow, russet and gold and deep
maroon, and my beloved Mamie
was growing old and died too soon
died too soon.

I remember the purple grape wine
that came from her little vinyard in
town and the strolling pathway that
led to tender young vines and plump
juicy grapes then taken to the celler
and washed, crushed, and put into
large stone crockery jars to ferment.
Final step seal with paraphin.

Onward christian soldiers marching
off to war and I see laundry from afar
there's clean white sheets drying on
the line but hurry before it rains get it
in on time, don't forget the old manual
lawn mower we wouldn't want it getting
rusty.

There goes my dog Kim joyfully
racing around the yard in a big
circle and me clapping my hands
and cheering her on.Its four o'clock,
and dinner isn't called dinner its
called early supper but before we
eat its tradition for that crabby old
biddy great aunt Leona to go outside
clap her hands and chase all the blackbirds
out of the maple tree once thats done were
home free.

I'm in the celler again helping grandma
Mamie shovel coal into the old furnace
there stands the old maytag washer got
my finger caught in it once would have
lost it if it wasn't for grandma.

A tornado is on the way so don't board
up the window completely leave a good
size crack and watch your head and
watch your back.After all is said and
done nothing is what it seems for what
is life but a dream so have yourself a
piece of purple grape pie and some
real whip cream.

Josette Marie Louise Lager
Copyright@2005