For Bonnie

Ever since the homestead days, when you, 
The eldest, baked the bread for barefoot boys 
Flushed from the corn for lunch, the care we knew 
Was testimony of your oaken poise. 
And when you left the weathered wood of home 
With wide brown eyes, the heavy sandstone walls 
Of college seemed like mountains — the sky a dome 
So large, a farm girl could not search it all. 
But then, with him, you strove with gentle pain 
(Your young but work-worn hands would scrub our heads, 
And tuck us, kissed and storied, in our beds.) 
To bring to pass the circle of life again. 
                  And I see my child strive to learn the song 
                  That you, with care and labor, sang so long.