Winter Highway

The future is a truck
barrelling down a snowy road.
We follow its vague shape
through the speeding cloud,
never gaining, unable to pass.
One way to see clearer
is to pull over, stop chasing,
listen to ravens, talk to pines.

About Ray Sharp

Poet, athlete, retired public health planner
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6 Responses to Winter Highway

  1. thefeatheredsleep says:

    This is excellent

  2. I’m with thefeathersleep – this is a great short poem – I love short poems, they say so much in a few lines when done well

  3. thefeatheredsleep says:


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