The rhyme of an ancient and enlightened hag. |
The Lonesome Life of Minnie on the Mountain Minnie on the mountain spinster in the woods, living an existence no one understood. Sunny flower print dress mouth full of false teeth, faux pearls round her neck bone brogues upon her feet. Weather beaten pine shack perched upon a crest, way up Hoot Owl Holler just past Raven's Nest. Rain storm torrent water tumbles down the hill, funneled to a barrel just beyond the kiln. Black cat crowned Rasputin hound dog dubbed Monet, wintertime companions pass the lonesome day. Collards cooked in fatback cornbread dipped in cream, peaches from a tin can mountain folk cuisine. Lifetime of creation stored about the place, boxed up in the rafters every open space. Country wives and farmers toilers on the land, images of people born in Minnie’s hands. Knew not where it came from never called it art, molding life from red earth satisfied her heart. Governmental stipend pittance for her wares, shopping in the market shrugging off the stares. Bric-a-brac and knick-knacks scattered through the town, but a raspy whisper she was once around. Minnie in a creek bed shovel in the clay, eyes turned to the blue sky when she passed away. Minnie in the mountain neath a bowing tree, spent life with a vision others couldn’t see. |