For Those Who Never Know
    Footnotes

    “For Those Who Never Know,” Ensign, Mar. 1987, 65

    For Those Who Never Know

    First Place Winner

    Perhaps her name was Sarah,

    Bunching skirts up

    As she turned away

    From cultivated fields

    To load the tools of planting,

    Squinting at the hot horizon

    Through a wagon’s dust,

    Wiping on a muslin sleeve

    The sweat of prairie-tending;

    Muscles,

    Bending-tired,

    Aching from the births of children

    And of land.

    In cresting waves

    Long past the breaking

    Of her camp,

    The hoped-for green

    Without her knowing

    Grew.

    And those of us who came behind

    Found feasts within the furrows

    That she left

    And left

    And left.