The Rawboned Returns

(More notes on going home again, which they say you can't etc.)

Note #2: Papercut, Part 1

Speaking of
That man on horseback
From the previous picture
My purported Great Great Grandpappy
Tho the twain of us never met–
There’s a famous family story
Been passed down from mouth to ear
& year to year
Until it reached me as a youngun
Which is what I’ll here relate.

Apparently that selfsame GGG
Who also went by the appellation Earl
(same as his great great grandson)
Wuz a mounted mailman
Back before the first Great War
By which I mean
He rode his trusty steed
(let’s call her Rosey for Rocinante)
Over hill & under holler
All throughout these Appalachians
Delivering letters
The sooner the better
To those ancient ancestors
Of the future MAGA faithful.

When one day
Another equally equine accoutered man
Approached Earl inquiring 
Of his postal perambulations
Just what would be the readiest route
For crossing Pinetop Mountain?
& rather than sketch the man
An elaborate map
On the back of a shovel
With a piece of chalk–
Earl opted instead to lead the way
From Valley Low to Pinetop Pinnacle.

& that is where our story takes a fateful fork.

For hardly had Earl begun his return
When a blizzard blew in
Thus obscuring the man’s hand
In front of his face
Much less
The rocky route back to White Oak.
Aye, it was every fella & horse for themself
& after releasing Rosey from her service
So to survive as her quivering withers wilt
My great great grandaddy
Scrounged around to find a way
To save his own shivering timbers.

Speaking of timber,
That was exactly the Tree-Us Ex Machina
That suddenly appeared in the guise
Of an old hollow log
At sight of which
Earl wasted not another second
But flung his frigid carcass inside
There to pass the time
Until the storm’s passing
In relative discomfort & dis-ease
But hey,
At least his mangy hide
Wuz covered & smothered
Like a plate of Waffle House hasbrowns–
All of him that is except
His poor frostbitten feet. 

End Note #2, Part 1
(To be cont’d.)