Life Does Not Hault

brome grasses inch their way underneath her petticoat
they catch onto her stockings and snap off
a few moments this goes unnoticed
soon the tingle, the pricking
makes her tug at her ankles
she walks on
her small feet are bound by small leather soles
she had always hated being bound by souls
but the stickers are much too fierce to go at alone
she must fend off the urge to liberate her toes
she walks on
they be covered, her toes, to her thankfulness
so she must not be reminded of their captivity
the blue fabric floats through the grasses
and grazes across her small leather soles
she remembered sewing this dress of blue
a few summers back it had looked enchanting
with so many hours out in the grasses
it lost its vibrancy but gained history
she walks on
not far off a buzz brings her out of her reverie
she knows better not to fret over a family of bees
simply performing tasks and chores, as is she
she carried two metal buckets, handles that swing
so close she could now see the picket fence
that splintered fence had been a pride and joy
her daddy and eldest brother hammered it out
in the pouring rain, they did, cows running free
she walks on
she looks forward to these treks, time to herself
time to walk, to think, to savor the day
matters to her none, there is work to be done
work is the small price of living life
she walks on
a low moan of a cow echoes a squeal of a calf
life lesson that momma cow must be teaching
she feels herself quake, slows her walking to stand.
her mother. oh how she missed that woman's eyes
that woman's touch, a voice that healed all
but soon milk will fill the buckets with clanky handles
and thoughts of her mother will subside
so she must walk on