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Thursday, Dec. 18, 2014 12:01 am

sleighing poem # 1

as to one horse open sleighs we sibs
sat in ours sang jingle bells but if we
jiggled too hard and fell out it was either
into hay on one side or a bin of oats on
the other for it was propped way up in
the loft unused unnoticed balanced on
the tall woodengold wall that separated
the two sections of the upper round barn
its runners must have been secured on a
small platform we never asked about it
begged a real ride it was a relic just one
of the many things around the place we
took for granted then it disappeared none
of us noticed either for the sport had
limited fun without going anywhere the
play usually lasted only a few verses
when I remembered in my late teens or
twenties and asked my dad where it was
he said mr bumstead borrowed it I knew
the bumstead farm beyond the hill farm
they brought milk to the dairy in a pickup
I’d never seen a sleigh there well didn’t he
return it no he backed a tractor into it –
it was pretty bunged up well couldn’t it be
fixed it’s a valuable antique didn’t you
make him do something at least gather up
the pieces for us no I just let it go there is
no good ending to this story I wonder if my
sibs even remember or if a bumstead does

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