Only when the snow was five-feet deep
and icicles from rooftops
as big as your arm, and the bay frozen,
he realised he hadn’t been paid.
Like all Acadians he knew how to store.
In his larder: frozen vegetables from the garden,
a moose his son shot,
fish he caught during the summer;
lobster, crab, clams and mussels.
In the cupboard; pickles, jams and […]
Filed under: Sandra Bunting by akublik Date 3 June, 2010
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He didn’t seem a man for flowers.
Travelling slowly
to struggling farms down-river
in his black suit and dark hat
pulled down over his eyes,
my grandfather took me by the hand
and led me to the best manure piles,
only horses’ would do.
Deals struck to enrich the earth,
encourage purple and pink blossoms,
scent of Ireland on the way from China,
driven by memory […]
Filed under: Sandra Bunting by akublik Date 31 May, 2010
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