“Freshman” by Sue Churchill
She stood through the whole club meeting—
the officers all announcing themselves–never
spoke, as if not entitled to a word or a chair.
She was small and slim—fawn-like
still, where the seniors, now
they were does, and they knew it.
She’d had her hair streaked grey, an odd
shade for a fawn, the color of ash,
or a boat hull-up in the sun.
She looked out and away, thinking
of where she’d rather be, but where
was there a thicket safe enough,
tight with thorns, blurred in fog,
a spot hollowed with the high
wild frequency we hear as silence?
____________________
Share your response to this work, in any form, here
Sue Churchill Artist Statement:
Sue Churchill is a poet and farmer who raises sheep on Thistle’s End Farm
near Lexington, Kentucky. Sue’s poems reflect her rural life and
fascination with the complex and often heartbreaking natural world. Her
chapbook, *Toward the Fold *was published by Workhorse Writers in 2020.
Her work has also appeared in *Literary Accents, biography, jelly bucket
and the Appalachian Review.*
