let me be feeding horses in the big pasture at five below zero inhaling scent of alfalfa, breath frosting eyelashes years written on my face not in my heart or let me be fencing in the west pasture pulling up wire from pungent earth where snow bent its back tightening each strand against errant calf, while meadowlarks greet springtime's blush or let me be gathering in the hills content to drink from a battered canteen the sweetest water in Crook County my heeler quick to roust the cow from brush, my mare eager to turn a stray or let me be sleeping in the old ranch house next to my partner whose gentle snores match my own, arthritic hands joined horse-miles and hay-miles behind us Patricia Frolander Sundance, Wyoming |
 Patricia Frolander |
| At age 66, Patricia Frolander is an active rancher. She was haying when the letter containing her $500 check and National Senior Poet Laureate certificate arrived. Our e-mail query about whether she had received her mail inspired her to open her envelope. She responded in shock. She hastily provided photos by her daughter, Shannon Baseman, so we could finish the newsletter and share the winners' names with the world in Sept. Patricia, who moved from Boston to Sundance, Wyoming as a 24-year old mother of three, had never seen a cow close up. Now she writes odes to creatures that converted culture shock to love. |
