June 27th…“WHEN GROWING UP ON YOUR FARM IN MINNESOTA, SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT SOMETHING THAT WAS A MYSTERY AND PUZZLEMENT TO YOU.”
POEM – “A Hammer Named Stammer” by N. Elliott Noorlun
There’s a lot of questions, For each little boy,
As he encounters, Every daily joy.
“How come this?” and “Why is that?”,
Like, “Why did God make a calico cat?”,
A moment like that, Came to me one day,
As far off towards, Our woods I did play.
I could see our dad, Real far away,
As far as a football field I’d say.
With muscled arm, Dad’s hammer would fall,
And yet, for a second, No sound at all.
Then, like magic, Sound reached my ear,
And only then, Could I hear.
T’was if that hammer, Didn’t know how to talk,
It seemed to stutter, It seemed to balk.
Being too young, To understand science,
I could only draw on, Boy’s brain reliance.
So, then and there, I named that hammer,
His name then would be, The hammer called, “Stammer”.
As I got older, And went to school,
Learning facts, And the Golden Rule,
I was taught about, The speed of sound,
And just how fast, Across the ground,
That sound can travel, Once it’s made,
And where we stand, Will change the grade,
Of when our ears, Can listen in,
From whence that sound, Did begin.
So, “Stammer” the hammer, Was a learning time,
As I have shared, Within this rhyme!! 😉
Norwegian Farmer's Son 