A Town Without Sugar

Writers Group Essay No.2

This poem was created as a response to a writing assignment given by the moderator in the Writer’s Group my wife and I belong to in the town we live near. I am printing it here as part of my ongoing support of my category LEARNING TO WRITE FILES. Since writing is a major part of my life now, I have chosen to publish it here.
The theme is as follows: “A Town Without Sugar.”

As I stated in my first essay, I belong to the Writers Group of DeFuniak Springs, Florida. We get writing assignments that involve the creation of stories from our own imagination that reflect on the theme given at each meeting. Since the whole point of any blog is to provide written material for the followers, that concept can include poems, essays, short stories, and novels which add to the experience. Many of you want to start your own blog, and you read the various ones generated on other websites to help you with that effort.

My goal with the “My Learning To Write Files” Category is to share my learning experiences with aspiring blog enthusiasts as well as those individuals planning to become writers themselves. One way I can do that is to publish the assignments that I have been given by the Writers Group to show my progress. Whether or not such efforts are beneficial to you the reader is, I suppose, up to you. So here goes my publication of  WA No. 2.

“A Town Without Sugar”

On the banks of the Mississippi I waited. The big old riverboat was late. A burnt orange haze hung low over the delta and signaled the end of another day. My spot on the broken down pier let me throw rocks at the fish below while fireflies sparkled their tiny orbs in the marshes  nearby.

It has been two weeks now since the warehouse burnt down. Our storehouse of sugar went with it. The ancient sugar refining plant nearby had been shut down and we stored the remnants of the last run of white sugar in big bags stacked on pallets inside.

I didn’t know that sugar dust could explode like that. The inferno sent flames high into the air and took out buildings nearby. The volunteer firefighters battled the blaze for two hours before it finally went out. The devastation was complete.

We divvied out the white stuff to each person in our small town. We are poor here and take advantage of what we can get. Since we had the large bags stacked so high, we hoped our bountiful supply would last forever. But now it was gone!

So I waited. A trading post upstream donated a small supply for now. But after that gift was depleted, what then? Local folks here will have to find a way to get some more. It won’t be easy, though, because sugar is in short supply around these parts. The plantations send their goods off to points unknown and bypass the small establishments that border along this big ol’ body of muddy water.

After a few hours, the light faded as I ended my wait. The flowing waters at my feet trickled by as the frogs began their melodies onshore. No one knew I was there and I didn’t care. It was just another day on the river in a town without sugar.

 

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