MY MAMMY’S POND
Those were the nights
Hounds bayed in the distance,
A coon being hunted in the yellow moon lite.
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Bullfrogs gathered for a summertime opera
Baritone groans alive come twilight.
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The rain had just passed
The old grey board farmhouse
Crickets fiddled
And sang in the hay.
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Opposite the right bank
A night owl beat cool winds
Rushes whistled, past cattail cotton
That springtime evening at my Mammy’s place.
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Just like a snare drum in a jazz tune from the ’50s,
Cicada would soften,
A distant train’s roar
Way off in the night,
A Gator croaks loudly as he sits on the levee,
In search of a mate,
The love of his life.
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Treefrogs chirped softly in a breeze filled with wildlife,
The night now alive in winds from a storm,
Beatdown and blew in the fast-moving rains,
That springtime evening at my Mammy’s farm.
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Tonight, was a night where tales would be answered,
In wildcat screams and mule deer calls
A midnight serenade, of sorts from the hoot owls,
High and far out on beams top the barn.
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Moonlight danced brightly along glistening streams,
Ducks would be calling in whistles and quacks,
And way in the distance rumbling thunder as the serenade blossomed from memories way back.
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These were the sounds heard in the spring nights,
A childhood remembrance of which I am found,
No place have I ever recalled or cherished,
No place like those nights on my Mammy’s pond.
This is Tender Ink my brother. The sweetness of the memories reflect the duality of life as a verse brought me laughter and joy yet another verse tears from your cherished memories. As I grew up on a farm this one is very special to me. This has to be my favorite one. Your talent is a gift to us all .
Johnny – You paint such a vivid picture with your words. I was a kid again – chasing lightning bugs – laughing in the freedom of summertime. Thanks.