Now the white crib rides in a freight car,
following the fuming locomotive
and the bright-eyed girl west across two great rivers
and along a third, the Platte.
Her new mother, Mary, has not smiled since Chicago,
but no woman was ever a willing pioneer.
Father gave up trying to convince her this was a good idea,
but here she is anyway,
too many boys and this girl
and one more headed for that crib back there.
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