rained

rained

new-boiled clouds wash clean
cold nose-stinging wet trickles
road all greasy mud

old boards turn dark brown
knots curl black and dead pith crumbs
pines stab, glistening

my old hat worn grey
with turkey beard and two holes
smells like a wet dog

ee-Yah!

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Luther Allen published poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s