Ninety

A hundred miles from Omaha

A sunny day, but not quite summer

A child was born; a baby came

Leola had a little girl

Soon she was a woman

Wild at heart and brave

With a soul of independence

And a spirit none could tame

She put her hands to work

Though but a child still

Arcing current, wielding fire

She bent iron to her will

With hands that had formed steel

Now grown a bit more soft

She raised and reared six children

Setting each of them aloft

Those hands, so used to working

Just seem to keep on moving

She sets a proud example

In the deeds that she is doing

In her hands, crocheting needles

Turn threads to works of art

Every stich is filled with love

For the people in her heart

Four generations now

Her children, great and grand

Her touch is felt by dozens now

With many more at hand

So many she has touched

How many she has blessed

Of all the hearts on earth

She ranks among the best