The Mule

The mule’s a crossbreed animal,
Bred to be a hardy force;
His Sire, a handsome donkey,
His Dam, a beauty of a horse.

Some say his father married up;
His mother married down,
But status to the mule
Isn’t needed for renown.

He’ll do his very best to please;
Then for reasons we can only guess,
He’ll up and do the opposite
Of what we want him to, or less.

A Mule is quite an oddity,
He’s loyal, steady, tried and true.
Then without a moment’s warning,
He’s willful through and through.

The mule’s not dumb or lazy,
But he’s often temperamental.
And to say he’s pertinacious,
At the least is elemental.

In lore the mule is legendary.
Of this creature ’tis often said:
He tempts the sober man to drink,
The righteous man to wish him dead.

Now what he lacks in social skills
He compensates with strength and brawn;
For when he feels cooperative,
A mule will work to dusk from dawn.

We excuse the Mule’s behavior,
And his lack of equine class,
‘Cause his mama raised him in a barn,
And his daddy’s just a jack-ass!

**

Grits

Grits: a common Southern dish,
One folks eat most every day,
But when referring to this food
Is “are” or “is” correct to say?

For those raised above the Mason-Dixon
A taste for grits is one acquired.
But for those born below that Line
The taste is genetically inspired.

Top your grits with pats of butter;
Sprinkle well with pepper, salt.
You’ll know then why Southern folk
This creamy humble dish exalt.

Don’t put sugar on your grits.
Ditto milk, or cream or honey.
Folks will stop and stare at you,
Or laugh at you for eating funny!

Grits: a favorite breakfast dish;
A simple food in every way,
Except for how to reference such:
Is “it” or “them” correct to say?

Some say “are” and some say “is”.
Some refer to grits as “it” or ”they”.
“Hush now, chile, and eat your grits!
Save your questions for another day!”

**

Refuge

it was a terrible awful day
when my daddy died
when I got the news
it hurt me to the quick
but when my mama passed away
the news hit me
in the place of disbelief
left a gaping hole
that has never fully healed
in the center of my heart

i loved my daddy
but it was to mama i went
whether i was on a mountain top
or in the lowest valley
or navigating the winding road in between
that joins them together

mama was the one
who could kiss away my tears
put a band-aid on my knee
a cookie in my hand
and chase bad dreams away
with a story she knew
would make me laugh

she rocked me until
i had grown too big
to sit in her lap
then i sat beside her
as close as i could get
even after i was grown
with my own children

sipping sweet tea
from a jelly jar glass
she listened to my woes
and reveled in my victories
until i was just too tired
to say another word
cry another tear
or laugh until it hurt

there’s no telling how many times
i leaned into her shoulder
that place of warmth and comfort
where i breathed in her scent
and melted into her softness

true refuge
mercilessly merged into memory
when she slipped away
when i least expected it

where now do i go to mourn