I See It Now

I saw her lift the hoe,
Too tired to stand.
With weariness upon her face,
She cleared the land.

Bronzed...and wind seared,
She helped to make a livelihood.
She helped to master barren-loam,
And to make her children good.

Working beside my father,
She was young in age.
As they together...piled and burned,
And took away the sage.

So the plow could touch,
They were the slaves.
With sweat upon their heavy brows,
That added to their graves.

Years have folded this way,
And still within my heart...I know.
Memory plagues me often...when,
I see my mother...lift the hoe.


E.P. 1908 - 1989


For Family: The dugout site is above the pink flower (for Grandma and her Mom) on the far distant mountain.