Judith Sanders: Feeding the Horses at Crystal Spring Farm
Out past the empty barn,
twin Percherons, tall as steeples,
canter across their meadow
to greet my small son and me.
October 13, 2021 · 2 Comments
Judith Sanders: Cherry Tree Elegy
A freak tornado had snapped its aged limbs,
one angled like a lap where our son had snuggled,
sheltered by green in summer, copper in fall.
September 22, 2021 · 1 Comment
Judith Sanders: First Lesson
…assess this particular pebble’s
cool weight in your palm,
the diameter of its smoothness,
the course it traveled over the seabed
December 28, 2020 · 3 Comments
Judith Sanders: Autumn Walk at Beechwood Farms
You said, Name the world.
So I said, I call this a spangle tree.
How about, you said, a rose-hued spangle tree.
That’s beautiful, I said.
Let’s name the world together.
October 7, 2020 · 7 Comments
Judith Sanders: The Farewell
“Picture a staircase,”
the hypnotist said.
“At the top, a door
will open
onto a landscape.”
January 31, 2020 · Leave a comment