Living with Death

Frank Stanford

Long ago a man came to our place
With his daughter
It was evening when they arrived
In their wagon

They had a white piano

They asked only to stay the night
For room and board
They said they'd clean the barn

I looked out my window until dawn
Counting the peaches

The maid gave me rags
For the hot pot of coffee
She gave me to take them

I hadn't even milked
Hadn't sung to the fish
But they'd stacked sacks of manure
And sharpened all the tools

So I went to the pump
And found the daughter washing there

She said Death won't dare
Touch a hair on our heads

Ginny Stanford