Family Circle
At a round rest stop table
The usual can of pork
And beans, nothing added
To make them seem more
Than they were, was the
only side.
The mother prepared
simple
Bologna sandwiches, neat,
With no mayo or lettuce,
And the ordinary meal
Became a summer picnic:
It was an unbroken circle.
They were like westward
Pioneers who stopped
Someplace near here decades
sooner
To locate themselves
In a family way.
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