Featured Poem #2

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Hazel eyes gazin' eastward
From this flat frontiered new place
There's a wistful look acrossin'
Her worn and creased' face

There ain't too much out here yet
On this prairie's wildest plains
Just the dust now mostly settled
By the cold November rains

Her home is earthen made
Cut right out of grass and sod
There's a door made out of canvas
Which the wagon train had brought

They've staked a brand new claim here
No more movin' on
Settled in 'fore Winter's storms
Their supplies is all but gone...