Written by: Cyndi MacMillan


Across open planes, the wind ruffles wheat as I hang linens and whistle a hymn, The creek sings along, its melody sweet, I touch the bonnet he bought on a whim, One babe is long due, one is by my feet. Though only last year life had been so grim, Blessings we cherish, beyond wildest dreams, Oh, this frontier life and all its extremes. Our homestead is small, we work dawn to dusk for there’s land to tend and children to rear, Some folks wilt like a forgotten cornhusk, Hardship is plenty for a pioneer. Summer can scorch and each winter is brusque, But there’s his fiddle, much love and good cheer, My face finds the sun, praises one bright beam, Oh, this frontier life and all its extremes.
By Cyndi MacMillan, For Nette Onclaud’s “Moment in Another Time” Contest Written March 22, 2012 *The soup syllable counter counts touch as two syllables. It is one syllable.