In Shongelo Shadow
John Clare Stokes
Where has our little Lute gone today?
His dego hoe leans unworked against the magnolia
The family cow swishes the flies
Waiting her milking
Mother hen broods upon her ungathered clutch.
Back broken down the furlough in the heat
Curt leans into the scots plough
Molly mule determined to pull home
Tempers steeled and growing hotter.
Over in the back forty cotton field
Marzelle mends again the broken barbs
Muscles straining refusing to yield
To wires snapping in times so hard.
Beneath the cool porch Irene and Hazel pray
Their Kitty Kat congregation captured near
All awaiting from above a word sent their way
Pass the plate! Your Maker fear!
Across the black top thirty-one at the store
Earnest hears the Trailways from Meridian
Too soon to send his sons to wars distant shores
Homewood! Homewood, the driver calls to
Passengers sleeping.
To the Shongelo shade Lute has roamed
So far from his dear mothers call
In the cool woods soon the light is gone
The clock stops down in the darkened hall
When clearly, Lute hears the call of longed for voices
The Shongelo shadows lift, gone for good
Returned safe, Luther Ray, in a loving embrace of
Ethel Marie, the family welcomes him home to the eternal Homewood.
Rev Luther Ray “Lute” Stokes
Oct 16, 1924
Mar 11, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment