Sleepy eyes spotted it right away
under the Yule tree behind Huckleberry Finn,
next to his sister’s doll house,
his Red Ryder automatic air rifle.
In minutes he was sitting astride
the front porch banister drawing a bead
on the street light thirty feet away.
Pop! He got it in one shot.
He took aim on the street light
opposite the next door neighbor’s house.
Pop! Two down, two shots.
He popped the neighbor’s neighbor’s light,
felt the hand on his shoulder.
Gimme the gun, boy, and follow me.
Dismounting, he trailed his dad
up the street and around the corner,
past the movie show, across Main Street,
straight to City Jail, and told all,
head lowered, waiting for the worst.
Twenty platitude minutes sent him home.
His dad, of course, took the rifle,
permanently,
saving the world from total darkness,
pop by pop.
From my book, The Olfactory Organ Recital
and Other Poems
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Bravo For That Dad!!
I grew up on a farm so we shot at other things
mostly dinner ;)
Embraced ~ Embrassé
Vickie
Ron
Good write and a sound message!
Sandie May :o)