Sacks Race

Sacks Race

It was the whiteness
of the hawthorn
that dazzled her eyes,
tickling her nostrils

It was the kindness
of the mulberries
that caressed her lips
brightening her smile

That reminds me of an Easter day
Ma’ was there
Rice and lamb, jute and rope
ladytulips and ears of wheat
and children … we’re playing… Sacks race

It was the sharpness
Of the cotton-boll
that hurt her thumb
wiping her blood

It was the loudness
of her laugh
that urged me to run
and win Francesco

That reminds me of an Easter day
Ma was there
Rice and lamb, jute and rope
ladytulips and ears of wheat
and children … we’re playing … Sacks race