Late night keys dangle in the wind
clouds move along the sky river
wind swirls low to pick up anything
not tied down, not held down
There goes her hat!
The thing that will keep her warm tonight
stomped by feet of shoppers, rejected as trash
her hat, made for one head.
Rain wets it. Street oil soaks it.
She crosses into traffic, leaps toward the gift knitted
a story just for her. Grandmother’s poem rings
as fingers reach for the flying thread
as long as a blood vein
by
-Shannon P. Laws
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Shannon Laws
Shannon P. Laws, born in Seattle, Washington, lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest. Author of three poetry books, "Madrona Grove", "Odd Little Things", and "Fallen" and an audiobook of her select mid-life dating satire poems, "You Love Me, Your Love Me Not". For seven years she produced award-winning community radio programs that promoted the PNW music/art community. Shannon's other interests include operating her voice-over company, Chickadee Productions, and Poetry Club. Since 2015 Poetry Club is dedicated to the neighborhood discussion and sharing of poetry.
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What a perfect poem for now! Just love it, Shannon!
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Thank you Susanissima!
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