Pioneering
in the wilderness, the Moores and the Bransons,
with cousins playing among the lilies of the field,
the girls in long dresses, surrounded by the earthy aroma
of warm Iowa soil, where their lives would take root.
After the youngsters had their fill of chasing fireflies
at sundown, hearing eerie owl calls, one of the wagons
served as a summer bedroom. Soon, a snug cabin
of their own near Beaver Creek with a spring nearby.
The hauled water to the cabin for cooking and washing,
smaller children led horses to the creek for a long drink.
Even before sunup, the timber came alive each morning
with songs of chickadees and warblers. Often newcomers
spotted the red fur of foxes and squirrels, sometimes
those settlers were observed by “dusky savages.”
Winters challenged, cold and snow,
eerie howling of wolves at night. They kept a fire
in their hearth, bundled in jackets and shawls
and long stockings, melting snow for water.
Lucy made good use of her spinning wheel,
knitted socks for the family by the hearth
all her years in Iowa, where six more babies
were born at home, twelve in all.
Older youngsters sent to play at a relative’s cabin
while an aunt or grandmother stayed
for comfort and coaching during the birthing.
Meadowlark Songs
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Your poem paints a lovely picture of your motherline’s pioneering life.
Thank you so much, Liz!
You’re welcome, Joy!
This is a vivid picture of prairie life, Joy. You have a knack!
Bless you, Eilene. I had help from an obituary and also a story two of Lucy’s granddaughters (including my great grandmother) wrote for the Moore reunion records–what winsome details!
Your description of the every day life experiences of your pioneer matriarchs is wonderful to visualize and appreciate. Fabulous prose, Joy. 🙂
Bless you, Nancy. I had help from an old obituary and a story two of her granddaughters wrote for the Moore reunion records.
It’s fortunate you had the stories and obit to glean from. The details are wonderful. 😁
Hurrah for details!