October Bluefild Sky

October Bluefield Sky

John Clare Stokes 

When a little boy in a Florida fall

Mamma would gather my sister 

and we’d go down to the Y in

the Sopchoppy 319 road, 

my little blue suitcase

packed for a stay or two

to board the Greyhound bound

for Bluefield, West Virginia 

to see Monnie and granddaddy 

Richard 

the retired Crumpler to Northfork

bus driver 

to see chain smoking and gin 

Sipping Andy Ford salesman

in the new Mustang 

Uncle Kermit

Who drove mamma

In fifty five in the January snow

To deliver me

and to see his brother Don

up on that steep Castlewood

drive with the cool Army gear

which cousin David and I

would play

While Paula and Donna Lynn

thought of ways

to escape Aunt Mabel’s fussing

over

To run up the cow fields with the

Daniels dairy boys 

The dank sweet smell of the

Cold milk stored in bottles

For the route

Or play Fred Biletnikoff football

with the red headed Thompson 

twins 

Florida State seldom winning 

To climb the black cherry tree

In front of Grandma Carrie Ethel’s

And eat more than I picked for

Monny’s pie.

Then high on East River Mountain

behind the brick house with the

dark basement with the real little girl

Stove my mamma had as a girl

The Red Ridge Runner narrow gauge

 train would whistle

and we’d beg someone to take us up

For a ride in the black Buick

Uncle Kermit couldn’t

He was smoothing out next door

Uncle Don couldn’t

He was down at the telephone plant

Monnie wouldn’t

She had a cherry pie in the oven

But mamma would

And up we’d go

Down Cumberland road

To turn and go up just out of

Bluefield 

to see everyone way down there

as Aunts and Uncles and Cousins

And friends below.