I find the world,
Bleary, drudging, drowning.
Tears dripping,
people move along
grieving, crying, laughing.
Sun shining,
Cicadas trilling
dancing, skipping, running.
Me finding,
water suffocating
crying, bleeding, dying.
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The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
The simplicity of the words, and the short lines allow it to be easy to read, but then also able to be thought about without being bogged down in details. I like how “Sun shining, Cicadas trilling” is a positive set of lines that holds the middle of the poem. Good luck in the challenge😊