For the old people:
Men in bolo ties singing “Oh Susannah”
Women with pocketbooks hanging from their forearms
Who made pie crust, and biscuits, without recipes
People who knew mules and horses as well as they knew cars
People who brought food out of the ground
And children out of their bodies, without a doctor standing by.
They were upright, unbowed,
But gentle as rain
They’re gone now.
In imagination I try to walk their paths
What were their thoughts? What did they see?
I wish I had asked more
I wish they were here to tell me
Long gone, the old people
The ones who knew.