No new clothes for school’s start back then
Not long we knew until the three week break
When every able hand soft or calloused
Headed to the fields racing the first snow
To pick potatoes, baskets to to barrels, dawn to dusk
Back-breaking work but honest beside migrant workers
A quarter a barrel added up sorely but proudly
To shiny shoes and warm gloves and sweaters
Farmers’ wives in roadside stands sprouted overnight
Selling new potatoes with friendly smiles
Then hard times’ harvest of auction signs
Tired old farmers got done, few took their place
Too rough a row to hoe youth would say when leaving
Many to return each July for a festival of memories
Amidst Aroostook blossoms’ aching beauty
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Copyright Deborah McGlauflin 2009. All rights reserved.
