The Church

The church was pure white

up high on a hill;

with a great steeple

a bell rang clearly.

With Mother and Father

each Sunday they'd go:

where they learned right,

not how to throw stones.

The Mother

The wind and the sun,

the moon and the stars,

blew with her heart

a well-tuned flute.

A rose each morning

fresh as the dew,

up early frying

the bacon and bisquits.

Diming the lights

she pulled sheets tight;

a kiss on the cheek

was surely in order.

Throughout the forest

her voice reached far:

"Come on home, boys,

it's time for supper".

The Father

Solid as a pillar

the father stood planted:

for all the good things

in life God granted.

With his bare hands

bees were as children;

with his blue eyes

 kids knew their limits.

Always a teacher

advice friendly given

toward any projects

the boys were scheming.

A friend of the people

beyond the village,

they all came weeping

when the angel ascended.

The House

The house was snuggled

amid oaks and maples;

breezes blew calmly

through windows open.

The floor of wood

solid as the maples

wore through the years

but always swept cleanly.

The roof was of tin

ringing with falling rain,

reflecting the sun

with its drilling pain.

The windows were spotless

for hearts looking outward:

at blue birds and robins,

the moon and the stars.

The Sun

The sun shine brightly,

the sky deep and blue,

tho' mist on the leaves

sparkled through the trees.

Above banks high

the water tracked scars;

the boys looked disheartened

at the dam destroyed by the storm.

Their hearts soon shined

as bright as the sun;

the boys went running off

for new dreams to conquer.

The Storm

That same afternoon

tree frogs warned loudly;

creatures in the forest

all scattered for cover.

Big trees swayed slowly,

little ones bent low;

clouds up high rumbled,

cracking white lightning.

The little creeks roared

all murky and brown

above their boundaries

sweeping leaves on the ground.

From night till first light

the rain fell steady,

so that by sunrise

the ground was all soggy.

The Dam

Downstream a mile

the tiny creek united

head-on with another

just a little bigger.

Together these two

at a fork joined forces;

it was right here

the boys started working.

They gathered all the rocks

and dirt they could find;

and while they were digging

yellow jackets came buzzing.

To home they darted,

legs hardly moving;

to the dam they returned

with kerosene for the critters..

Their project continued,

near sundown completed;

by the next morning

the water stood deeply.

The Creek

Between two hills

meeting in slopes,

a tiny creek trickled

along the fields of the forest.

The hills were splattered

with hickories and oaks;

clusters of pines

grew up in bunches.

The creek was no bigger

than one step across;

always crystal clear

till hard rains fell.

The creek was too small

for fishes to eat;

but tadpoles abounded

with lizards and snakes.

The Cabin

Daddy's big axe

was all they needed

to muscle down trees,

cut limbs cleanly.

Notching each log

once on either end;

stacking them high

one upon another.

Planks slightly rotten

found in the forest,

tho' for a door

they'd do just nicely.

Inside they made a bed,

moved in an old table;

on top they placed a lamp,

casting shadows in the cabin.

All night in the dark

within their wooden hut,

each told fancy yarns

about tomorrow's forthcoming.

The Fishing Hole

They strolled along yapping,

bubbling with chatter,

all about Monster

stripping hooks cleanly.

Blue jays were barking,

sparrows in a frenzy,

Big Creek was rumbling

they heard without seeing.

Loading their hooks

with worms big as pencils,

they cast out deep,

skipped rocks while waiting.

They sat there all day,

the hot sun blazing,

and all they reeled in 

was a catfish and a sucker.

The Forest

The forest grew big trees,

some small and twigs;

leaves on the ground

grew deep in the seasons.

Through the deep forest

the boys patted trails;

from home to Big Creek

their paths intertwined.

Atop the ridges

on paths well-defined;

they looked at the meadows

at the larks and the quail.

A hut of stone walls

all covered with moss

protected a spring of water

that filled little bellies.

Along the small creeks

deep in the hollows,

the paths were earmarked

with boys heavy travel.

Beginning in spring

from school's last bell,

the forest they trampled

till roll call was held.

The Bathtub

Once a week on Saturday

they got a weekly bath;

this was a total disgrace

to the code of the West.

The water was always too hot,

the soap smelled too funny;

but in the tub they went

without their clothes on.

They begged and they pleaded

not to wash their hair;

and where were their six guns

in case they were needed?

Their skin curled all wrinkled,

trademark rings washed off;

just what would Ken Maynard

think of his men now?

The Big Brother

He was away in the Navy

somewhere upon the seas,

serving Uncle Sam,

whoever that dude was.

The cowboys saw his picture

at the post office in town;

they often dreamed of meeting him

on Main Street at sundown.

One day big brother came home,

his face sunburnt as fire;

he ate chow with the cowboys

with six guns loaded, hats on.

He poked fun at their duds,

told 'em to take a bath;

the cowboys said to be careful

he was still on dry land.

The Sisters

They were in high school

in the city no less;

and they listened to Elvis

on the radio A.M.

Bobbie socks they wore thick,

skirts below the knees;

they always wore sweaters

which cowboys resisted.

Saturday night was their time,

all day they spent primping;

when boyfriends came knocking

they got a bullet 'tween the eyes.

This went on for ages

till they all married off,

leaving the cowboys at home

with the radio and Davey Crockett.

The Dream

Their dream of being cowboys

went deep into the night

until they fell asleep

in a fantasy world.

"Look at my horse, brother,

I'll call him Silver."

"That's okay, deputy,

I'll take Trigger."

"We'll need some guns, you know,

maybe with pearl handles?"

"And don't forget the rifle,

one with a lever handle."

Riding high on the prairie

resting high on a cliff

looking down in the canyon

at rustlers they had surrounded.

Let's get going now

head 'em off at the pass;

"get up boys,

it's time for breakfast."

The Cowboys

They dreamed of being cowboys

up high in the saddle

with horses like Roy's

chasing bad guys forever.

Riding stick horses,

cap busters strapped low,

they hid in the woods dying

for bad guys to show.

Deep in the ground

the posse united,

mapping out plans

on their hideaway's floor.

When summoned for chow

from deep in their hole,

they used twigs and leaves

to cover their secret.

Their clothes were snow white

from the limestone dust;

just like real cowpokes

tracking rustlers till dusk.

The Beginning

The Boys

Very close they were,

each was a brother;

wherever one went

the others followed.

Three in all,

youthful and spry;

 roaming through the forest

 breakfast till supper.

From winter's long pants

they needed no more

came their short pants

they wore all summer.

Shirts were cut, too,

from one season's use;

more often than not 'tho

their backs were golden.

They saved their shoes

for Sunday School;

walking everywhere

barefoot in the summer.