freight train wheels
on iron rails
conveyed my father and his hopes
across the vastness of Ontario
over the Dust Bowl of the
Manitoba prairies
to these wheels of the haywagons
in Saskatchewan
to toil the daylight hours

this familiar photograph
in the album at my mother's
is the first one taken of him
in Canada, I remember him saying
every time he retold
the story of his immigration

one of three workers in the scene
he was the hired hand on the left
atop the mound at the back
where the wooden rail fingers
restrained the hay from slipping off
the wagon

a slight of build, boy-man, at nineteen
his courage and stamina
made me proud whenever I thought of
the trials he endured, like so many in
those times

his first sighting of Canada
disillusioned him, welcoming
him to the chill and damp
of a sombre Halifax Harbour
in March; a disappointment
after the heady dream
of arriving here from England
to establish a better life

at the YMCA a notice posted
soliciting farm hands sparked his
pilgrimage west
it promised solid wages
and free transport
by Canadian Pacific Railway
a widespread call
for dedicated labourers
to bring in the Saskatchewan hay

the appeal of drier climate
and steady income
were enough to win his effort
after his bleak beginning

this would prove only one of his
repertoire of endeavours
in pursuit of sustenance and survival

hot and heavy the chores all the daylight hours
but he had worked farms since a child
dealt with Clydesdales
(had the damaged big toe, right foot to prove it)
as a teen in England
after running away from home

olive-skinned by nature
his complexion had further darkened
by the time of the photograph

his work mates in the scene
maneuvering their pitchforks beside him
back of the horse team
were diligent, quiet types
unattached and unsettled
anxious like him, to earn
their bread each day
all not aiming for
a grander picture, yet
or foreseeing the defeat from wind storms and
severe poverty that had infected the west
even worse than the east
the same blight on the economy

and which would soon sweep away
the fibres of the new dream

no-one specific to target
to protest the raw deal

he turned to other wheels, again
that brought him to Ottawa
a man of resilience
who would discover my mother here
study at night by correspondence
and become an accountant

and a father who always
shared his stories

01/21/2004

Author's Note: alternate title idea: In His Hay Days

Posted on 01/22/2004
Copyright © 2025 Maureen Glaude