by Sherri Steiner
I brought my day to the doorposts
And pierced its ear at the dawn.
Earth sang and shouted for gladness,
And gold spilled down from the sun.
When the world came near the doorposts
And saw the crimson spread,
They laughed, and pointed their fingers
And wrote me down as dead.
Just another girl from a farming community in Ohio, Sherri Steiner does most of her thinking and writing while alone with her cows, her thoughts, and her God.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy