The same paths were walked each day
From house to barn
From house to pump,
The full pail sloshing.
Summers, the garden path was there
To sandy loam,
The moist dark brown
Clung to shoes and tracked the floors.
The paths drew her pattern;
Crisscrossed the farm
And bound the family.
The paths wore deep;
The grass gave up.
Mother's Paths
Mother's Paths
Ruby Zagoren
Prairie Schooner, Vol. 40, No. 1 (Spring 1966), p. 81