MINE

I claimed it, I owed it;  it was mine!

That mountain of ponderosa pine,

That spread of sage and crested-wheat grass

That cluster of boards and nails known as a house

That orchid of fruit I’d call “world class.”

I paid the taxes, held the title

To rolling pastures green to the line

To cattle and horses and sheep so fine

To full-headed, golden, bearded wheat

It belongs to me and you can’t take it away

Uh – What did you say?

 

You say that another soon will own

These bottom lands my hand has sown?

You say I won’t sell it or give it away

Instead I’ll simply leave it here when I sigh

That final sigh and quickly die

Another!  Imagine that!

Another will sit where I’ve sat and look o’er these fields

And claim them his and gripe or brag about their yields

And then like me he also will slip

Beyond the sound of human lip

And, leave as I will, his all behind

His ALL, unless he will the Savior find. 

- eab, Sep. ’95