There in my pocket diary—
notes like crops
baled in the barn loft.

          There, farmers drove to towns
          in the soft countryside—
          Holyrood, Mildmay, St. Columba.

          Their children snug
          on the front page
          of family bibles
          like diminutive work shirts
          on the clothes line
          warm in the sun.

There
Alma—
          lined up next to her sister Ada
          and brothers Gabriel,
          Samuel, and William.

Alma, already thinning
her kitchen garden
and gathering the eggs
in the basket of her apron.
She tracks the sun
across the polished floorboards
and closes off the front parlor
when cold days come.