Prairie Flower

When wandering across the soil
That scalds beneath the white-hot sphere
My memory of ancient toil
Returns to taunt and fill with fear.
My hands were rough from breaking chunks,
My plow cut gaily over sand
As year on year I pulled up trunks
To plant my seed within the land.
Now my child has gone away,
My wife is buried on that hill,
I now no longer work this clay
Nor bend the bitter earth to till.
Now chancing on a prairie flower
I step upon its naked bloom
To watch its tiny structure cower
As to foretell certain doom.