Between Matins and the Late Alarm

That winter so mean we took the mule in To the schoolhouse and rumped him up aside the stove, He didn't stink no worse than the rest of them And was just as smart. Look here, Miss Honeydew said, You can't leave that animal around all day. Look out, We said, this mule's all we got, and the snow's already Heaped up way past the hay bales, and the water won't crack. It's fixing to snow till it's done, and it ain't near done yet. Any fool can see that, Miss Honeydew said, and I'm no fool. No ma'am, we said, but it's warm in here, and dry, And even a mule can't breathe under snow. Old Reuben Done like to froze when the wind hit him, and it won't Get no better before it gets worse. Nobody going nowhere Nohow in this storm, and that's a lesson to us all. And that little Jenkins kid piped up: I know that mule. Caught him down in the corn some months back, and my daddy Had to beat him off with a scarecrow. That's the mule, We said, but there ain't nothing in here to eat but books, And he ain't got a taste for them yet—and neither has you, Young Jenkins, if everything your mama says is true. All right, all right, Miss Honeydew said, any creature's Welcome in a blizzard, as long as I'm running things. And that's when Reuben let out his piss like a frayed rope, So loud on the bare boards you couldn't hear the wind. That happens, we said. A mule's like to do that any time. Must be the stove thawed him out down to the piss. A good floor will take that without no trouble, if it Was laid down right to begin with, and this one was— We put it in ourselves, flat and snug, two hot summers ago. Miss Honeydew huffed and shoved her desk some feet away And looked at Old Reuben and looked to the window. You might want to take him out back right now, she said, Before he thaws out any more. This room's a schoolhouse, Not an outhouse. And we have work to do Before the light goes. Ma'am, we said, work is Something we know all about, and so does this mule. But nobody works when the snow's this high. And Where's a mule to go in a storm like this, when the wind Hangs up in his hide like barb wire? Let it slack a bit, And we'll haul him home, if the house ain't disappeared. Miss Honeydew poked Old Reuben's haunch with a yardrule Till he backed hisself into a corner; his long ears stood up Sorrowful, like some dunce. We'd never seen a mule Look so ashamed. Well, said Miss Honeydew, just so He keeps himself quiet and clean. We thank you, ma'am, For this kindness, we said, and Reuben thanks you, too. And outside, the world went blind and lame, teaching us A thing or two about the place of mules, stuck here in this Godforsaken state where winter comes on so hard and wild No one can miss the point, not even that halfwit Jenkins boy.