Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                         Page 23
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SWEET WATER

When the days warm and the nights still cold
we’d go to the sugarbush
in the hollow down the hill
and run the metal buckets back
through the snow and mud
dump them in the seemingly towering tank
on top of the heavy wooden sled
pulled by Ike and Bessie the old draft horses
icy water filling our boots sodden
mittens sagging
we didn’t mind
later as the light changed
we’d warm up in the sap house
smells of sweet steam and wood fire
boiling hot dogs
in one of the rows of evaporating pans
eating the thick syrup on the snow
a lifetime ago it seems
when there was white smoke
in the dark gray woods each spring
and the mark of heavy horseshoes
in the undisturbed snow
the unused dirt road

  Gregg Weatherby