My Father's Birthday Before I Was Born

It was so simpleBefore I was born.My parents were farmers:White farmhouse, white curtains,White chickens on the range."Have you ever seen a chicken wearing sunglasses?"My mother would reminisce.

Before I was bornMy mother was beautiful,A young girl in a country dress,She baked pies and grew pumpkins,Huge orange pumpkinsThat I would never see.

My father was slim and strong,Before I was born.The pictures show him smilingWith a dog by his side,An old baseball capTilted sideways on his headWith a loose lock of black hairFalling down into his eyes.

Before I was bornThere was an old wooden stairwayThat led to a bedroom,A sunny room of window glass With a small double bed,A four-poster bed with a soft mattress,Feather pillows and a quilt.

It was my father's birthdayBefore I was born, April fourteenth, 1946.My parents woke early,Warm in their bed,Surprised to see snowIn the middle of April,And a white horse standing silentBy the side of the house.