Granny’s Fairies

We cousins readied for bedtime on Granny's sleepin' porch.
Six mouths haphazardly brushed, repeated glasses of water as whined for,
most of us here overnight for the first time.
The Dr. Pepper snoozed in the fridge not ten steps away.

She attended us so well, her hair braided up in a bun,
with a crossed left eye that never really look at you squarely
and an old tobacco bag pinned to her brassiere that
held the funds for our Army-Navy store desires.

There was cotton clipped to each of the window screens
to warn the birds away, so she claimed,
and she had fed hobos lunch on the outside table long ago,
taking care of all that came her way from the tracks behind the pastures.

Mounded deep with mismatched pillows and
flour-sack quilts sewn by years of hands and thread,

the old swayback beds waited folded back, nice and neat,
then were loaded up with two or three cousins each.

The old rock salt crystals that grew in the bowl

atop the heater sparkled with table-lamp light.
The swamp cooler blew slow, stale, sweet air trying to let go of summer heat.
It was the cool of the darkening evening and as the sun slipped from the sky,
she drew us to the windows that faced the back yard.

"There, she exclaimed, do you see 'em coming?"
We pressed our faces to the glass, peering out into the falling deep dark.
"I call 'em to protect you all on my sleepin' porch. Here come my fairies!"

The scattered twinkling of tiny lights came towards us,

up from the horse pasture, even appearing higher-up in the trees.
You could just make out the advancing line of fairies, spreading out
across the yard, each signaling their allegiance to us all
for the long heavy night.

Those conjured fireflies delivered that which could not be denied.

We believed and slept deep and safe in the sleep of quiet invincibility.
Soon it would be tomorrow, and time again for swings

and tomatoes and salt and watermelon

and maybe even a sneaked small taste of Dr. Pepper if you dared.

 Old Version:

We cousins readied for bedtime on Granny's sleepin' porch.
Six mouths haphazardly brushed, repeated glasses of water as whined for,
most of us here overnight for the first time.
Dr. Pepper snoozed in the fridge not 10 steps away.

She attended us so well, her hair braided up in a bun,
with a crossed left eye that never really look at you squarely
and an old tobacco bag pinned in her brassiere that
held the funds for our Army-Navy store desires.

There was cotton clipped to the window screens
to warn the birds away , so she claimed,
and she fed hobos lunch on the outside table long ago,
taking care of all that came her way from the tracks behind the pastures.

Old swayback beds were dressed and folder back
Then loaded with two or three cousins each
Mounded deep with mismatched pillows
Flour sack quilts sewn by families of hands and thread.

The old rock salt crystal that grew in the bowl atop the heater sparkled with table lamp light-
the swamp cooler blew slow, stale, sweet air trying to let go of the summer heat
It was the cool of darkening evening and the sun slipped from the sky
And she drew us to the windows that faced the backyard.

"There! Do you see 'em coming?" She exclaimed,
as we pressed our faces to the glass -peering out into the falling deep dark.
"I call 'em to come protect you all that rest on my sleepin' porch. Here come my fairies !"

The scattered twinkling of little tiny lights came towards us
up from the horse pasture, even appearing higher up in to the trees
You could just make out the advancing line of fairies spreading out
Across the yard, each plead hugging allegiance to us all
for the long heavy night.

Even now I recall that night as the first time I witnessed true magic. It was as close as We all ever got I suppose. True and magical wonderment springing from my granny's conjuring old ways of love.

Those conjured fireflies delivered that which could not be denied - we believed and slept deep in the sleep of invincibility and barely even whispered.
Soon it would be tomorrow, and time again for tomatoes and salt and watermelon and a sneaked taste of Dr Pepper if you dared.