Reformation after Equinox
Herman Strasse after Equinox
The leaves had lost their prime
After the reformation, the Wars,
buried in a time capsule
Of black cars with painted bumpers
Carriages, horse-drawn, modern barns
Hidden in classic designs
With no electrical lines to the house
Where westerly winds relentlessly caress the sheets,
Work shirts and cloth diapers on the wash lines
Next to the orderly muted green houses
Mennonites seem to favour, at the end of long farm lanes
surrounded by large barns with small signs
Heralding high-tech fabricating businesses,
cabinetmaking and auto parts manufacturing;
they shun the outside world; no need for interference;
they take care of their own
Raise barns and large families;
shun those who do not comply;
they have strength in numbers,
in faith
Yet, a vulnerable minority tucked away in wondrous
Ontario countryside noted only with a side glance
As tourists rocket by to beaches and cafes.
Some farms herald signs, eggs or flowers,
maple syrup, fresh vegetables in season sold here
In trust, leave cash in the jar, a community
in seclusion away from secular strangers
Women in plain cotton dresses, wide smiles,
men with their straw hats sit on opposite sides
in the white clapboard country churches
Children play gaily in schoolyards in elementary
grades until girls join their mothers
Boys their fathers
In reclusive faith
As we admire their stoic lifestyle, they shirk ours
as they hug the side of the road with a skittish horse
as our cars roar by
“Is that a Mennonite?”
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