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WAHM PCKCHES LaJune B. Leishman &tO West 1st Avenue Richfield, Utah 8<+?01 Non-Professlonal Division First Place Poetry No one la sitting on the porch now. The old man Is gone. He won't be back. And the people Living in the house are too busy For porch-sitting. The motorcycle. Parked where the ehaUr rocked, Says that. Often I sat vith him- The old man-sat while sun-baked bricks Wanned our chilled bones. Kine chilled oy a Blustery spring, his by a more permanent frost. Sometimes we shared our porch warmth with neighbors Passing by. "Hope it don't rain. Got all my hay down," Or children climbing the rails. "I'm the king °* Bunker's Hill, Gome and catch me If you will." Or the family, gathering to show the old man His posterity. ""Gonna be bigger than your dad." When he felt like It, the old man Talked. He talked about his father- The one who built the porch-how he came from Dersnaric With a new faith and a new love. And how, For his faith, he walked to Manti to build a temple. And bow, for his love, he built the porch. _.^_ The sotorcycle, parked on the porch now, r~' Is cold. I shiver when I see it. Porches, warmed by sun and by love axe for people, Hot things. Sourcei Written about the porch on an old family home in Sanpete County upon seeing it as it is now and remembering how it was "then." .. d -9*- |
