Spring Day in West Texas The painted horses, persistent eagerness, tug at new grass as trees, so few of them here, lift new green toward heaven. All of the landscape is like an apostle in his first glimpse of Christ in the desert crowd, reaching toward. A storm the size of Rhode Island whirls the distance red. A pecan grove, twenty years tall, is shaken to its roots and neglected houses are pried apart. As noon turns into red dusk, I am like a song bird in a storm, without shelter. Oh, the troubles of this world. The whole day is allegory.
Susan C. Waters has an advanced degree from George Mason University. Ms. Waters started out as a journalist covering hard news in upstate New York, and for 13 years was a magazine editor and writer at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science, College of William and Mary. She has won 10 prizes in poetry and has been nominated twice for the Push Cart Prize in Poetry. Her chapbook Heat Lightning was published in 2017 by Orchard Street Press. Her publishing credits are extensive, ranging from the Washington Post and the Baltimore Sun, to the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation and the U.S. House of Representatives. Currently, she is Professor Emeritus at New Mexico Junior College.
Amethyst Review 