cars shush

michael raven poems December 17, 2022 1 Minute

these hands, withered
old growth roots stained ash
gnarled knots and
ropy veins blue tangled
snowfell outskies
twisting me

cars shush on by

Published December 17, 2022

4 thoughts on “cars shush”

tara caribou says:

December 17, 2022 at 4:09 pm

Somehow the last line just makes this poem. What a clever addition. You’re awesome, Michael.

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1. michael raven says:
  
  December 17, 2022 at 4:35 pm
  
  Thank you, Tara. I’m not sure how clever I write, but I’ll take it and run away before anyone realizes that fact. 😊
  
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Bridgette says:

December 28, 2022 at 9:28 am

Love this one. The word shush makes it.

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1. michael raven says:
  
  December 28, 2022 at 10:11 am
  
  Thank you.
  
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