Jake's Flea Market

when you put away the rag doll
and the hand sized horse carved of wood

when the children complain

tell the daughter your mother’d 
walked from the time the mud
on the estate inside her had dried
had become ripe for the plow
ripe for the seed

from that   time ‘til the crop
inside her had ripened
and was ready to be harvested

until the harvest inside her was 
gathered to the world

tell the son she’d   walked
sometimes with a sickle in her hand
and sometimes with the handle of a scythe
rested on her shoulder

later it was   the handle of a pitchfork

and finally   the handle of a rake

tell them she’d walked
hours in the rows of clan
in the side-by-side footpaths

footpaths carved into the towheaded sod
by wagon wheels turned by generations of oxen

footpaths from von schonburg’s village
to von schonburg’s fields of waist high wheat

when the children complain
send them out to wander in the orchard
to gather apples and chestnuts in the woods