Thursday, October 05, 2017
Poem: Old Sights Through New Eyes
By: Donovan Baldwin
Prologue:
Many years ago, as a small boy, already immersed in the age of automobiles and airplanes, I saw, a couple of times, an old farmer come into my hometown of Pensacola, Florida. He was riding in an old wagon drawn by an old mule.
Quite a sight for a young lad as I was.
The following poem came to me a few nights ago (8/14/2017), as I was thinking about that young boy and the old farmer with his mule.
Old Sights Through New Eyes
Old dusty dirt-colored farmer,
In his old, frayed and, once blue, now faded, overalls,
Guiding his old, weary, dun-colored mule,
Pulling the old, unpainted wooden wagon,
With the old, rusty, iron-rimmed wheels,
Rattling on the old, gray, cobbled streets,
Of the dozing old, Gulf Coast town...
Old hat, to the old.
But, seen with the bright eyes of a boy,
A dazzling new sight.
Prologue:
Many years ago, as a small boy, already immersed in the age of automobiles and airplanes, I saw, a couple of times, an old farmer come into my hometown of Pensacola, Florida. He was riding in an old wagon drawn by an old mule.
Quite a sight for a young lad as I was.
The following poem came to me a few nights ago (8/14/2017), as I was thinking about that young boy and the old farmer with his mule.
Old dusty dirt-colored farmer,
In his old, frayed and, once blue, now faded, overalls,
Guiding his old, weary, dun-colored mule,
Pulling the old, unpainted wooden wagon,
With the old, rusty, iron-rimmed wheels,
Rattling on the old, gray, cobbled streets,
Of the dozing old, Gulf Coast town...
Old hat, to the old.
But, seen with the bright eyes of a boy,
A dazzling new sight.
Labels: donovan baldwin, Florida, old farmer, Pensacola, poem, poem about a farmer, poetry
# posted by Donovan Baldwin @ 9:41 AM 
