Rusted steel ribbons spiked down on creosote ties
Connected dreams to ambitions with dollars and a note.
Silver tracks pointed westward reflecting bright prairie skies
Passenger trains paused at despots allowing bankers to promote
Crowds listened closely seeking a regions familiar word
Stories filled with promises, backed by early settler’s success.
Distributed by first year explorers, repeating what they heard
Hard work is the moral, no one suggested less.
Land is turned by team or yoke and planted with desire
Potatoes are set deep in the furrow to break the age old grass
A hardy root to feed the farm and any extra buyer
A fitting meal for a prairie home, to make a season pass.
Dakota winters came and go, silver tracks remain just there
And each few years more neighbors left, seeking changes in the setting.
But some prairie homes were built to last; sod walls still enclose the stair.
A solid foundation held their dream and a life with no regretting.
– Clarence Holm