This Poem was Submitted By: Marcia L McCaslin On Date: 2015-02-14 15:40:09 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Bucket

Old as the dirt that packs its seams,  its burnish has long since wearied. Even the rising of a resurrecting sun  can barely coax a gleam, although reds and oranges  translate to a bit of glint on its pocket surface. It hangs by a wire on a post  that lives out its remaining days, an unwitting teller of time.  Two roan horses and a mule wait by the bucket, noses nudging it,  eager for the morning routine. Suddenly, they recognize the footsteps  of the stable boy, watch him approach with downcast eyes and tousled hair.  Ears lop and twitch as the bucket is taken by its overburdened bail. Ears project forward as they perceive  the whispering swish of oats, sticky with molasses, being scooped,  the sound changing as the bucket fills. Ears back, they jostle for their places  at the manger, chewing the wonderful mixture, eyes half-closed as though  in prayer to the Giver of all grain. As late afternoon calls in its debts,  the stabler fills the bucket with water and forgets, his mind on the tavern—  the press and pull of it reach irresistibly into his lonely world. With the folding of the dark sky,  the bucket, old as the dirt that packs its seams, has become a thing of  beauty as it proudly cradles a crescent  moon and reflects a bucketful of stars from The Milky Way

Copyright © February 2015 Marcia L McCaslin

Additional Notes:
Published first, maybe, 2004 on TPL--now dusted off, stood on its feet, with a pair of new shoes, is The Bucket.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2015-02-18 22:43:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Only you could make an old bucket beautiful. As always you take me there. The the farm, to the horses, to the mule,to the stable hand that longs for the tavern and the maidens within. That an old bucket that can't even get a light beam to gleam its surface yet in the end cradles a crescent moon and reflect a million stars. How incredibly beautiful. You made my evening. Thank You

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2015-02-18 11:10:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
An interesting way with words, fine extention beyond the immediate (The Milky Way), in touch with the warmth of home. Glad you brought it back. JCH
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