Coming Home Poem by Darwin Henry Beuning
Coming Home
Our family farm
Three miles west of Osakis
Third farm on the right
Past the two mile school house
Moving there in fifty-eight
At the age of eleven
I, the oldest
We children, totaling seven
Picking rock, baling hay
Milking cows every day
Living in the land of frost
Minnesota winter's so cold
Now, fifty-five years later
We, the children gather
To recount memories
And to recreate a picture
Our humble farm
Now a must-see, tourist spot
All the buildings, so exquisite
Filled with treasure's galore
A glorious place
Known far and wide
Crooked Willow
My brother, David recently added this picture to my poem. Pictured are, Terri Anderson, Such a gracious host, myself, and my brother David. Dave always says, We are the bookends, I the oldest at 68, Dave the youngest at 57. With five sisters in between, Gail, Anita, Kathy, Patty, and Cindy. We enjoyed our walk down memory lane. There is a Crooked Willow video on line, it runs 3: 44. I encourage everyone to watch it. If in Minnesota, come visit. Perhaps we will meet and share a poem or two.
Great Poem. So is Crooked Willow actually what used to be the family farm? Brings back memories of my days on the farm. My sister still owns the house where I grew up. Nobody is living there right now, and I can go stay there any time I want.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 9:25:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A really good family photo and a word picture of your family farm. It is terrific that the farm has become a popular tourist spot.