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