by Trish Saunders
A cowboy eyes his tethered mare as she turns her head to gaze at me, watching from my porch. Blue asters turn their faces to the sun. At one o'clock, my neighbor unlocks her mailbox. At four, cows walk up from the far pasture. A teenager was pulled from icy Lake Washington yesterday morning, still breathing. The firefighters had reassuring hands.
6S
Trish Saunders’s poems are featured or forthcoming in Book of Matches Lit Review, Chiron Review, and on a wall in King St Train Station, among other places. She lives in Seattle, formerly on O'ahu.