Fragrant evenings….

           Smell!  So tired.  But now you’ve eaten supper and you can hear the quiet. 

           The odors.  Smell the wood smoke, the syrup mill, and the apple butter someone has made.  The whole land is full of odors.  You can smell the colors of the leaves as they are getting ready to fall; reds, oranges, yellows, browns, tans, and greens. 

 You can hear the quiet.  The pigs grunting, the cows mooing, someone calling the cows.  Someone calling their hounds.  You can hear a far off train whistle.  How sad.  But exciting too.  For it’s calling to you to come, go see places.  You know you can’t for you’re tied to this land. 

 The bull bats are out but you’re too tired to call them to come get your wool hat.  You hear a hoot owl.  Now a baby is crying.  A dog is barking. 

 It’s finally dark.  You go inside, get a book, read by lamplight and watch the far off lightening.  You hope it won’t rain for the field is white with cotton and you won’t to get it picked so you can go back to school. 

 One light blanket for cover tonight.

  4:30 comes early.

Louise Weir Frasier
 January 1, 1992