By Way of Pine

It came by way of oxbow and pine.

Along the frost and snowy conifer.

By yoke and plow in the nick of time.

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A child leans to glean a sleigh bell’s chime,

Wrapped by fire, kin, and oxen fur.

It came by way of oxbow and pine.

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In the sticks where mountains climb,

A rustle, a thistle, a wild cat’s purr.

By yoke and plow in the nick of time.

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Across the sky, through moonshine,

Smoke and plumes, a rustic blur.

It came by way of oxbow and pine.

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A child waits for a present sign.

A dust mote silence, a soul in stir.

By yoke and plow in the nick of time.

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Down through the chute and grime,

Burlap slung over muskrat fur.

It came by way of oxbow and pine.

By yoke and plow in the nick of time.