I can still see Daddy behind that plow
keeping rows straight as he knew how.

His two-horse team, Molly an’ Dick
pulled real hard, but never too quick.

Like watching choreography in a dance,
they worked together like in a trance.

No rest in the shade of an old oak tree
‘til Mamma took lunch to the weary three.

They worked from dawn ‘til after dark—
the valley only echoing a Meadow Lark.

Then, Daddy took the horses to the barn
gave them a rub down while whispering a yarn.

Eating late dinners Mamma kept warm
with radio warning of a morning storm.

Yes, work was hard for Daddy in spring,
but he knew security our crops would bring.

We all tried to help wherever we could,
plus, Molly and Dick did what they should.

They kept the wolf from our front door—
we weren’t rich—but considered poor.

Two ‘Plow Horses’ could not be replaced
walking the fields with harness laced.

Today, there’s no use for horse and plow,
but sometimes I wonder if we’re better off now?


Tamara Hillman
©2011