I was three , no bigger than a west Texas tumbleweed . . . just three .
My mother hung the wash out on the line and wiped the sweat off her brow with her hand . Half an hour later the clothes were frozen . Blue Norther . . . you can see them coming a hundred miles away . Wichita Falls , Texas . . . on the Wichita river .
Moses sat on a mountaintop gazing at the promised land but it was out of his hands now . Leaning on his staff , the one that ate the Pharoh's two serpents . . . sssssssilently a single tear falls to the ground .
No fence could hold me . . . I was over or under in seconds . A terror at three , a potential runaway . The police knew me by first name . . . just three . The plains of North Texas , jackrabbits , coyotes , rattlesnakes and all . . . were home .
Forty years of desert wilderness , till the last man , woman , and child of Egyptian connection had died , . . . . . . was such a sacrifice made . . . . . . Moses was the last to fall . On a mountaintop of no consequences .