Cooing Cooing, he
died last year from that bad flu.
Church says I need to
marry again, but I have
vegetables growing

fruit trees bursting out,
a hog, goats, chickens and eggs,
a roof and a floor
and milk for my two babies.

I barter for the
field work and the heavy work.
Mama does the laundry.
Ruth in the Old Testiment
did it. I will do it, too.

Cooing Cooing dove
in the kitchen rafters say
Love is just a hard
day’s work for the right reasons.
He died last year, but I lived.