Lone Time

Sitting on top of the old doghouse astride the gable
Not giving anyone no mind
No sounds from her, even though she’s fully able
A little girl, all alone for no one to find

Though it is late in the day, it is still very hot
The air is heavy and takes your breath away
It’s that kind of day that August brought
As the hot breeze blows and the corn stalks in the field sway

A little girl perched on the doghouse roof
Busy shucking corn, all alone, by hand
In her own world, away from others, purposely aloof
Just shucking corn in a pail with no other demand

In the distance voices are heard
Calling her name with an urgent tone
She knows who calls and hears each word
Unmoved she stays, shucking corn all alone on her own

In the shed, the sunshine seeps through the cracks
Like an outstretched glowing ribbon of light
With floating dust particles leaving tracks
And caught in this moment of dusty flight

Through the cracks of the boards of the shed
The little girl sees her parents and uncle pass by
Still calling her name, but now with that hint of dread
She doesn’t answer their call and they wonder why

Her pail of shucked corn is now almost full
Her thumb has been diligent and has had enough
Reaching that moment when she must be careful
A blister is near, emerging from this task that can be rough

Concentrating on the goal at hand
She works as she sings a song inside her head
Content she is and naive of anyone’s demand
Ignoring each of the pleas from the others as they are said

Her family’s biggest fear is that she is lost in the corn field
The day is soon approaching its end
They must find her, to give up they will not yield
They know, alone out there she can not fend

Even the old hound dog does not betray her location
Lying within the doorway of its house in a puddle of sand
Happy to have the company of the little girl on this occasion
Sitting above him, being close at hand

Finally the pail is full of corn
Proud she is of her accomplishment
A feeling of success in her is born
She smiles to herself with her own amusement

The little girl leaves her cozy place of respite
And heads for the shed’s wooden door
Soon to reveal to the others of her plight
Knowing now there’s no reason for them to search any more

She is seen by her mother, whose face is shadowed with scorn
Her mother asks where has she been
The little girl shows her mom the bucket of corn
Quite satisfied despite her mom’s chagrin

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s