The Farm Girl - Sonnet 32

She learned by naming every blade of grass
And carved her heart along the pinewood fence
Where misty broncos, burning morning sense,
Would loiter at the gate and let her pass.
She spoke a whispered word into the air
Behind me, rousing flutters from my nap
In labor ringing, tilting up my cap
To see the mountain laurel in her hair;
And I, the unsuspecting and asleep,
Had eased my mind among the first and last
Sweet memory of summer that has passed;
And now I find both winter and the deep
Tucked in the field where springtime used to play,
And laid to rest beneath the autumn day.