My grandfather
I never knew how he voted
He was born in 1900.
I spent hundreds of hours
in the field with him.
Farmers,
“You boy’s ain’t hopin’ me.”
Plowers of fields with mules,
Growers of every fruit
every vegetable
every animal
milkers of cows by hand,
survivors of the depression,
Eighty acres and king tobacco,
Porch swings,
Who did he vote for?
It was nobody’s business and nobody asked.
Who was his God?
It was nobody’s business and nobody asked.
The Parson left him alone.
Matters between them were settled long before I showed up
without a father in his field.
I never knew a man with a more private God.
My grandfather never brought Him up in the field.
You don’t speak of Him up when He’s there.
………………..david michael jackson March 29, 2015
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