View from the wagon (July, 1853)
We take turns walking, is his rule,Unless a body is ill…meaning dead.
I like to look out the back of the wagon
To where we’ve been, and never again.
As if knowing where I’ve been is better
Than not knowing where I’m going.
Don’t the hills make it look like a rainbow
Of fields in the afternoon sun on the grass?
“It looks hot,” she says, then turns away,
“I believe we’ve come fifteen miles today.”
And, I can see every one of them miles
Out back till the hills disappear.
I walk in the tracks of the wagon wheels
That bend the grass down smooth.
Every now and then I turn and look
To where we’ve been, and never again.
Painting by Roycroft
Poem by Grinstead
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