M

atriarch of Hamlet Farm artifacts
where rainbows hang to dry.

A

cres and acres of furrowed fields
that Betty and other mules laid by.

R

ambling fences climb over the hills,
where old Dick runs; coat shiny as mahogany.

T

eacakes in the warming closet…
the kettle’s brewing red sassafras tea.

H

arness hangs on a nail in the barn,
where hens lay eggs in straw nest,

A

nd red-eye gravy and country ham waits
for home-made biscuits from Mother’s Best.

E

ars of the mules stiffen looking over the fence,
tired from the toils of the day.

L

ight flickers from a kerosene lamp
while the cats chase each other in play.

I

rish potatoes snuggle in the cellar now dark
waiting for the first fall of snow.

Z

ero temperatures may never arrive
for the hickory back-logs are all aglow.

A

ll the family is bedded in feather beds;
in long-handles and outing flannel gowns,

S

carlet are the memories of days of old
like the buggy rides into town.

M

artha Eliza Smith dedicated her life
to this stairway of history to climb.

I

magery painted on the canvas of years
every day is imprinted in her mind.

T

his lady has tempered the mandates of time
she has pinned the stars on the blue!

H

eaven has no favorites someone has said,
but Miss ‘Liza, look how perfect god made you!

by Juanita Sikes Canada        
Poet Laureate of Chester County        
July 15, 1988