Ruse
When bird was on top of it
like snow on shad fish,
she found table legs
in the Santee River
running all the way
up the bypass to Hickory.
It was a time to forget
everything she remembered
about filling a home
and staying in it.
Bald cypress knees grew
up from the water
like hairbrush bristles
and, to welcome spring,
while brushing off winter,
was not an easy song.
2 thoughts on "Ruse"
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The short lines work well in your poem. Brushing off winter is never an easy song. That is why we have redbud, dogwood, blackberry, etc. to prove it.
cool beans
the whole poem
but just the word “Ruse”
i wanna use it