A Warm September Day,,


She pushed the hair back from her face, as sweat ran down her cheek,
Then bent down over her washboard, and her laundry for the week,
Methodically her hands moved, scrubbing clothes against the board,
As her mind turned back to thankfulness, and she talked to the Lord,
She was thanking Him for shade, beneath the walnut tree that day,
Thanking Him for touching Jessie, Gram and little Ray,
For the pork roast in the oven, the potato crop this year,
Then she heard the sound that cause’s, any mining town to fear,
She scooped her baby up in arms, grabbed little Ray by the hand,
To scramble down the mountain path, beneath the forest’s stand,
As she neared the footpaths end, she could see the church’s spire,
She caught her breath and hurried forth, to carefully inquire,
For hearts are carried on the sleeve, when tragedy’s transpire,
An accident in mine’s can mean, explosion’s, flood, or fire,
Most every one has lost a man, a son, a Dad, or brother,
The greatest comfort folks can find, is in God and one another,
Gathering together to pray and weep, is what they do,
It’s hard when someone else’s loss, can mean good news for you,
Babies cry and women weep, and men try to be men,
But heartache will touch every one, be it family or friend,
They wait as mining families have, all down through the years,
Weariness drowns out the rage,  wail’s turn to silent tears,
The ticking clock set’s nerve’s on edge, with its unending sound,
They wait as mining families have, for loved one’s to be found,
About sun rise they hear a sound, as siren’s once more wail,
They rush forth then with bated breath, this day will tell the tale,
 ‘How close did death come to my door’, is what’s on each ones mind,
Oh God please let a miracle, be what our town’s folk find,
She’s standing there beneath a tree, with both her young in tow,
When her eye’s spot a grimy man, who’s black from head to toe,
She knows the gait of her man’s walk, she would know him anywhere,
She stumbles forth to greet him, as she offers up a prayer,
One of thankfulness and humble heart, and a prayer for those less blessed,
And one for guidance from above, ‘Show me Lord, how to help the rest’.

In honor of the miner’s and mining town’s,with gratefulness  for your efforts,  and prayers for your loved one’s and families. As a young girl growing up in West Virginia, I can still recall the sound of the sirens, and feel the mantle of fear that fell upon our little community. A dreadlful hush would fall upon the hollow, even the youngest child felt the need to be quiet. So my heart is truly with you and my prayer is for a miracle.         Cheryl

To view more poetry and thoughts by Cheryl visit her blogs



~ by Cheryl on April 22, 2009.

2 Responses to “A Warm September Day,,”

  1. I just put a subscribe widget on Whispers, thank you for your lovely comment. Cheryl

  2. Hello again,

    I looked for a “subscribe” button and could not find one. How do I subscribe to your lovely blog?

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