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"Ladies bow Curtsy right. (Hear my voice:) Now sashay, Let's be gay, And REJOICE!" Source: Mt. Pleasant, pp. 70. 71. A BRIDE AT FIFTEEN Margaret B. Shomaker Roy, Utah Professional Division Second Place Poetry She looked upon the valley, smoke-green sagebrush Hugged the ground; the lupine lay in threads across the sand. A lone tree rustled with the breeze While birds hopped restless upon its branches. She dreamed a little - But felt the dust upon her lips. Is this the place a bride would call her home? She smiled - Remembering the velvet green of wooded walks. The hemlock in Conkle's Hollow walled by Towering cliffs of black hand sandstone. She looked again, the mountain lined horizon Lay like some great sentinel protecting her, She gained an unknown strength. The challenge of wedded youth was hers. She vowed her hands would plant the seed. Her parched lips would taste the ripeness of their yield. She heard the wagon master call "On to Sanpitch." Slowly the wooden wheels began to turn, She rose, brushed the wrinkles from her muslin skirt. The sunset spread flame across her face, The evening would be cool. Two seagulls spread their wings toward the west. Her footsteps marked the wagon trail. She took his calloused hand to follow Over the hill, home. -38- |
