The Gift

The bit of family history revealed here is true. It was documented in a diary kept by my ancestors as they traveled west in their covered wagon in the mid-1800s.

She fed cow chips into the fire;
her breath hung in the air,
her demeanor bright and cheerful
denying of despair.

The prairie dawn broke in the east
to light her morning chores
and sparkled on a skift of snow
in this great out of doors.

Bill joined her there, leading his horse,
ready to ride away,
but here to have some coffee first
at the dawning of this day.

Supplies were needed, that’s for sure;
their journey’d been so long
they were out of most ev’ry thing
needed to move along.

A village, twenty miles ahead,
was where he had to go
while wagons moved a slower pace
through early winter snow.

Bill asked for any special needs…
Maude whispered in his ear.
He smiled and nodded to her then,
“that’s what you’ll get, my dear.”

‘Twas late that night when Bill returned
and gave the gift to Maude.
She held it tightly in her hand
for she was truly awed.

It was something that she needed,
a priceless gift indeed,
a simple spool of linen thread
to satisfy her need.