Songs from the Coulee

Neshonoc


1.


When the urge of autumn blossoms,
when the sky fills-in as if by blue paint
when a wintering Jay darts
across the swollen lake,

in the foreground where the water's raised
  over aged dam
and the crickets no longer speak
beholden to the coming cold...
we know our pioneers.

We can see the long treks behind
lumbering oxen from county Dane,
   the bull's heavy breath,
the clippety-clop of slow hooves
over mud caked fields

when the father held his knuckles tight
to lean on leather reins,
and mother to the girls'  low flung dresses,
the hovering of slow bees
beholden to the coming cold...
we know our pioneers.