Raw Wire Roads

I met Ruth at the diner,

silver hair and kind green eyes.

I’m thirty-six, she’s sixty-two; we were taken by surprise.

She told me of the farm she shared with her husband for

years.

She smiled at all their memories,

then brushed away a tear.

She said, “It’s pretty come October

when the leaves turn red and gold.

The acorns bring the deer in when November winds turn

cold.”

Ruth, you make the evenings brighter,

And the old place feels like home.

I could sit with you till sunset

Unless the north wind starts to blow.

Ruth, I might be falling for you;

the signs are pretty clear.

I hope you don’t mind me hangin’ ’round out here.

I brought her mums and split her wood; she brewed a pot

of tea.

I said I liked her company; she smiled and sat with me.

Her late husband’s honey hole

sat just above the creek.

I asked her if I could see it.

She said, “Let’s go take a peek.”

She showed me the creek crossing

and the ridge above the draw.

I said, “I’d like to come back when the leaves begin to

fall.”

Ruth, you make the evenings brighter,

And the old place feels like home.

I could sit with you till sunset

Unless the north wind starts to blow.

I’ve been thinking I might settle on your spot this year;

Something ’bout your forty acres keeps me coming back out here.

I set a ladder stand where her late husband used to hunt.

I put a trail cam by a scrape

and then checked it for a month.

Each Sunday I bring flowers and the camera card to view;

We’ll scroll through bucks till midnight and then cuddle until two.

She’s always pleased when I come to

spend the day with her;

But deep down I just cannot wait until November third.

I’ve got ten stands for five sweethearts,

two on every farm.

I’ve got ladder stands,

hang-ons, too.

Each one has its charms.

I love Ruth, Mabel,

June,

Darlene, and Louise;

I find each late husband’s honey hole

and then hunt it with ease.

I mix up birthdays,

forget names, but my setups all are planned;

Five women think I’m falling hard; I’m falling for their land.

Ruth, I love your laugh,

your coffee, and your land;

Your late husband’s honey hole is where I made my stand.

I love Mabel, June,

Darlene,

and I love sweet Louise.

I know it’s all a hassle,

but it’s cheaper than a lease.

My five sweethearts think I’m true,

but the truth is crystal clear;

I’ll have three more spots lined up by this time next year.