She quails at my unsightly kin. I cannot say that I'm
Surprised. We've come into the mountains, many
Miles away from what she knows. The house needs
Paint. The vehicles around it are not new or clean.
For dinner, we'll have elk or deer, and all day long
This time of year, we'll have to huddle by the fire,
Wearing all the clothes we've brought. I'm sure she
Feels as if she's tumbled backward into stone age
Days, but she'll soon be reminded that appearances
Aren't everything. These yokels from whom she
Recoils know her world and their own. If she consents
To listen to them, they will teach her things.