It is an outlaw day
The winds are high
On charging steed
With whips and spurs
They tumble weeds
And skitter leaves
Into a fearful frenzied
Runaway

And bandit shots ring
From the wood
And brigand bullets
Fly
Into an emptiness
Where once a doe-eyed
Settler stood
To rob the forest of it’s
Bounty

And I can only hope
The sheriff’s nigh
And with a posse wind
Will chase these rustlers
Down
And ride them
Out of town
Into another county




Sara Mathews     November 2015