“Pickin’ Cucumbers”

My brother, cousins, and I hated pickin’ cucumbers

Filling large baskets, watching out for snakes, consumed our summers

From early in the morning into the hot sun

For 3 dollars, a Red Rock soda, and a Honey bun

That’s right; Mr. Willie Gaine Rose was my worst enemy

So I thought; I now realize he was showing me dignity

You see, my maternal grandfather was from South Carolina

His life experiences gave him a real steel jaw

With Black skin, a 3rd grade education, and natural talent

By faith, tenacity, racism he was able to circumvent

Today, when I’m feeling somewhat defeated

I think of those summers on his farm heated

Pickin’ 5 acres of cucumbers with old socks for gloves

Damn, I just realized, it was all love

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