Reverie Way out back is a tire swing, hanging low from a pepper tree Swaying wild with the winds of memory A Coker Classic whitewall from a beat-up '57 Chevy Gamboling in time with my reverie An old turquoise truck, ambling down a long, dirt lane Windshield wipers on repeated refrain A four speed transmission, and a transfer case Deep-etched lines carved into a seasoned man's face A cracked vinyl bench seat, and windows rolled down Gravel dust and Autumn leaves on the back roads to town Grandpa taught me what mattered long before time took hold Showed me asparagus grows wild in ditches, alongside the road Told me home wasn't a place where a person should carry their load Tomatoes were best heated by summer, eaten fresh off the vine Never answer someone's greeting with a simple "Hi" or "I'm fine." A Pabst Blue Ribbon or a Thermos brimming with iced-tea Packs of cheese and crackers, but only Pepsi for me Ruffled hair from rough and calloused, working-man's hands Wet whistles and hums from the weathered mouth of a strong man And, chain-smoked Pall Mall's snuffed out in a Planter's Peanut can Grandpa taught me what mattered long before time took hold Showed me asparagus grows wild in ditches, alongside the road Pay your dues, never take more than you're owed Every day doesn’t have to be something big and grand Get down off your truck, and lend a helping hand No one knew what that old tire meant to me Where my own kids swung out back, wild and free Grandpa was there rooted as firmly as a pepper tree Tethered in time, on a Coker Classic whitewall off a '57 Chevy Grandpa taught me what mattered long before time took hold Showed me asparagus grows deep and wild, alongside the road And there was “No sense in talkin' once your temper's been blowed” When you're with your kind of people, you’re never bored And there “Ain’t no harm in praisin’ the Lord.” No one knew what that old tire meant to me Way out back where our kids swung wild and free That old man was tethered in time, and always there with me Hanging low from an old pepper tree, swaying wild in the winds of memory A Coker Classic whitewall from a rusted out ‘57 Chevy It was a Turquois truck, ambling down a long, dirt lane Grandpa honkin’ his horn, whenever he came A cracked vinyl seat, windows rolled down Back roads, and bygones left behind us on the way into town No one knew what that old tire meant, but me. TA GOULD 5/19/2020
