Salt Of The Earth
Dr Linda L Bielowski
Subject: down in the dirt writing
To be swinging on the porch swing, swaying
up-and-back, up-and-back, in swooshing syncopation
with pa's wheezing breaths on a twice baked Iowa day,
during a dry cough drought, in a season of living by
a single word and a simple handshake. Swinging and
holding a carpenter's calloused palm, powdered in sawdust and
salt of the earth. Tempted by promises of rainbow cones,
cool watermelon picnics, and pitchers of frosty Kool-Aid smiles.
Soaking in the wisdom of windmills and weathervanes, the
Revelation of a heaven so bright it fills the belly with brilliant
birthstones. Measuring the thirsty corn crop against the ideal of knee-high in July, while teasing thunder beings who bounce on
cumulonimbus trampolines, pa whispers and teaches me
to pray for rain.
