Prairie Poetry   
  A Prairie Widow

She turned her back
against the fearsome wind.
Prairie grasses bent
beneath a sky gathering grey clouds.

Face shielded from the bitter blast,
she looked back
over shoulders wrapped in woolen,
searched for a sign – any sign at all.

Three days without word,
three nights of silent lonesome.
Her own voice quiet,
afraid to break the spell of alone

Emptiness filled the horizon –
nothing but the storm’s promise
settled on distant hilltops,
before sliding down to her feet, ankle deep in waiting.

Dusk settled before day was done.
Early night howled in on the wind,
sliced across the frost bitten plain.
And the fourth day closed into darkness.

Ignoring the howl of wind and rain,
she threw prairie grass bundled tight
on a fire to light her life memories –
and chase away her loneliness.

  Siobhan Pitchford
  Copyright © 2004 Siobhan Pitchford
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