From a Window at Lumb Bank Copyright © Sally Warrell 2010

From my window I am watching the Indians,
Brave souls rooted against a smoky sky.
A dozen or so sparse, lonely firs
Seem to be making a stand for freedom,
Behind them drifting cloud, fading sunlight.
The cowboys are all in the valley.
Tension. I wait for the fight to break out,
For the frown of the skyline to buckle down
To the valley floor with its fast flowing
River, its rocks and its rapids and roads.
Instead the equilibrium holds:
The earth continues its eternal round.