Stern little lady,ancestor in an oval frame,I like the way your shoulders slopeand fingers dangleover book and carpetbag skirt.I widow's peak disruptsyour white forehead,your pink cheeks through black white.I braids loopabove collar necklace.Tell me, what color was hair?They told me stories about how you walked,how skipped a rattlesnake path,how sprinted snowy autumn prairieand kept all of toes...