Today's poem looks at the importance of good teachers in hard times.

Rehydration

Jes mamma an me sittin on the porch

of a hot Sunday

with flies for guests

for visitors

and “buzz” for a song

Main Street, like a dry river bed, jes down the steps

nothin on it movin

‘til the services end and

smokebelchin ol Chevies and pick-ups cough by with neighbors-like-strangers

givin a nod to us (or to the flies)

as they go by

I hear the boys, Petey & Joe

up on the porch roof

playin some boy-foolishness

up there high above the Main Street trickle

They like to be high up

over things

up trees, up telephone poles

climbin

like there’s somewheres to climb to

Main Street dries up again

parched for traffic

cracked and pitted

with thirst for some

             people

with a job or a store

or a friend

to go to

Mama’s darnin socks—makin do

I’m tappin a pen

watchin her try to mend

the holes left

when the mine closed down

Then I see Miss Teacher

she’s walkin from church

polished apple-bright

and crisp as a mackintosh

The riverbed sits right up and drinks her in

like God’s own sweet rain

So, I climb into her eyes and look around

and she climbs into my mind and she walks around

“Mornin, Miss Teacher”

“Mornin, Lisa, I need that piece by Monday”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Yes, Ma’am

--Joe Bellacero