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Poetry

The Serene Mornings

By Heather Sager

THE SERENE MORNINGS

During our long walk 
to the school bus, the dappled 
black-and-white cows followed us
slowly toward the road,
mooing behind their fence.
When they paused, if we strayed close,
the cows let our wide-eyed faces
near their steaming nostrils
or wagging tongues.
The music of the bells
round their plump necks
clattered on grey mornings.

Heather Sager’s recent work appears in OtolithsPoetry PacificRedEftMagmaBluepepperPoets’EspressoActiveMuseYgdrasilShabd AawegThe Bosphorus Review of BooksThe Fabulist, The Orchards and more. 

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