Red Earth Poem by Ernie Lowe

My Daddy was born
down under the earth
born in a dugout
born in the red earth
of Comanche Nation
cold prairie wind blowing
ice in the bucket
youngest son of four.

His mama was a hardworking woman
tending garden, cows and smokehouse
black-eyed peas, sweet corn
sides of bacon
sausages in a crock of grease.
Come inside the cool spring house
see the way his Mama loves.

"I liked the wild violets best.
They were beautiful
on the marshlands in the Spring.
I used to pick big bouquets
to take to Mother."

My Daddy was born
in a house dug out of the earth
fished beside rivers
red with that earth
catching catfish, buffalo fish
and carp
playing his harmonica.

"I looked for wild grapes
along the river banks,
black walnuts and pecans.
Watch out for cottonmouth!
He moves like a wave
across the water.
He'll kill you."

My Daddy was born
just under the earth
in cyclone country
where the big sky darkens
twists down to the ground
as the folks run like hell
to the storm cellar.
Excitement makes the fear worthwhile.
Red earth blows
maybe lightning
fills the dark heavens.
"Another twister
and we were still there."

Quiet now... it's raining.
Look! It's raining frogs.