Something Lighthearted

To much politics and woes of the world on this blog lately. Here is something from my pal Hal Swift.

Springhouse Memories
Hal Swift

My Aunt Vin's springhouse was one of the best,
made of stones dug out of the ground.
Where food was cooled in a low stone tub
with the purest spring water around.

Ever now and then, in the summertime,
us kids would all disappear.
My aunt would come open the springhouse door
and say, "Any children in here?"

We'd all holler and say, "Not a one!"
then Aunt Vin would come on inside.
She'd look around at all the food in there,
and her face would be glowin' with pride.

There was rhubarb pies she'd baked last night.
There was butter she'd churned last Monday.
Iced tea, lemonade, and buttermilk,
all waited for dinner on Sunday.

Baskets of apples, and peaches and grapes,
each had its own personal shelf.
And, my were they good, 'cause I got to admit
I sampled a few for myself.

Aunt Vin says, "There's some fresh cookies coolin',
right now on the big kitchen table.
What I'd like is for someone to bring in some milk
that is, if there's anyone able."

 Six of us children all pleaded at once,
with voices as smooth as pure silk.
 "I reckon," said Aunt Vin, "the way that you talk,
 you'd all like some cookies and milk."

After all of these years I remember the taste
of those cookies fresh out of the oven.
And I fondly remember those days with Aunt Vin,
and the joy that she gave with her lovin'.