I remember building forts with matches discarded at the end of the porch
and the sweet smell of that pipe packed with tobacco for your afternoon smoke.
Playing crazy eights on the porch and having to go to the bone yard.
Your favorite recliner on the corner of the porch, you could see for miles.
I remember long walks through the woods to the lake behind the farm
where you cut a young sapling, slid the bark off and make a whistle.
You showed me how to braid the bailing twine stored in the barn
four strands would make a round rope and three strands a flat one.
I remember the whips we would make tying the rope to a stick
and adding a single strand at the end to give a loud crack in the air.
The sparkle in your eyes when you saw us coming for a visit
your bird dog Toby always there to greet us with a paw in the air.
I remember the catalpa tree you planted in the front yard for fish bait
yellow and black fat juicy worms were great and the fish loved them.
The heavy barrel 22 rifle you used to kill hogs, that you gave to me
and the smoke house were the hams hung, right were you could see it.
I remember the old clock on the mantle and the chimes it made.
A story about a passing Indian who gave you a clay pipe
with a large carving of a deer stepping over a log with large antlers.
You gave me the pipe along with a leather case with purple padding.
I remember stories of a loving father from your four lovely daughters.
A news paper article mentioning a visit of Mr. Clark from the country.
You were always happy and laughed a lot, loved your chair on the porch
and said you always had a good breeze and could see your friends drive by.