<Something Lost, Something Gained>
Ma had been tumbleweed too,
holding on for as long as she could,
then blowing away on the wind.
My father was more like the sod.
Steady, silent, and deep.
- August 1935 - P196
<Homeward Bound>
Getting away,
it wasn’t any better.
Just different.
And lonely.
Lonelier than the wind.
Emptier than the sky.
More silent than the dust,
piled in drifts between me
and my
father.
- August 1935 - P199
<Met>
As we walk together,
side by side,
in the swell of dust,
I am forgiving him, step by step,
for the pail of kerosene.
As we walk together,
side by side,
in the sole-deep dust,
I am forgiving myself
for all the rest.
- August 1935 - P201
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