The Day I Helped Mama Can
Old radio moaned Hank Williams. Sliced pears, sugar speckled counter top, a ball of sweat hung from Mama's nose. Geese honked outside the window brightening my eyes. Earlier, running, slapping mud under my six-year-old feet, Mama, broom in hand, two rapid strikes drove away the monsters that chased me to the screened backdoor.
-by Hardy Jones