Ode to a Toasted Tractor

Overnight occurred a violent snowing;

Father will be out on the road plowing.

Out in the frosty fields cows are lowing,

For lacking grass they need a bale of hay.

Father burdened, I'll feed them today.

It's too cold to start the tractor today,

Not without warming it up, anyway.

I gather firewood without delay,

With a tarp I shield the snow from the flames,

I turn the key...Damage silence proclaims.

Like a thief does to a wanted poster,

I tear back the tarp, open the roaster,

plastic looks like butter in a toaster.

Wires, indicator lights, and fuel tank;

I am who my father has to thank.

“You did not even put out the fire?”

Shouts Father with legitimate ire.

“I’m sorry! I will help you rewire.”

“We’re lucky you're still here, the tractor too!”

“Never try what you haven’t seen me do.”

Some weeks later, we’ve got the tractor fixed,

My father and I, our feelings are mixed:

I’ve learned my lesson, lost the time betwixt.

I have learned very valuable skills,

Still the burning memory gives me chills.