Little David

DAVID DRAKE, 1870

 

I’m close to seventy.

That’s a long time

for anyone to live.

See over there;

that young boy

is little David,

named for me

because his mama says

he has long fingers—

potter hands!

I say those hands

are made for writing.

But there’s no reason

a person can’t do both,

now is there?

 

Come here, David.

Give me that stick

and let me show you

in this dirt

how to write a D.

D—that’s the first letter

for David—

your name,

mine too, you know.

And when you’re bigger

you can write words,

poems too.

You can write whole books!

And I’ll teach you

to make pots

on the wheel.

Listen, David.

Your mama’s calling.

And me,

I’m going over to the turning house

to see what kind of jar

I will make

today.