Pioneer Migration

I was a child...then,
So young in my age.
When I saw my mother,
Lift the hoe to the sage.

O what a waste-land,
Stretching out from my eye.
A wilderness...so untamed,
So sun-baked and dry.

I saw her blue-bonnet,
In the challenge...she met.
With her pallid young face,
All laiden in sweat.

I saw her frail-form,
And the great price she gave.
With a work that would make her,
No more than a slave.

In that pioneer-migration,
With a heritage to guard.
The sacrifice of my mother,
Would make her life hard.

Years have come forward,
And I in my age,
Can still see...my mother,
Lifting the hoe to the sage.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Brown patina on The Comp Wall, Castle Rock State Park, Almo, Idaho, USA