Hustle

Pushing paper in the dark

I’ve tried hustle.
I’ve worked until my arms ached, and my eyesight failed into the dim light of dusk.
My bones have coughed out marrow.

I hunched and toiled past the hands of time.
I ate words and listened to night fall like thunder.
I devoured, plodded, straightened my back and swallowed the dawn.
I watched the stars drift past my desk and the old owl swoop close to the moon, and I heard his soulful call among the wolves.

I’ve tried hustle:
Paper piled high against the darkness.

My limbs grew tired of the weight.

Written by

Writer, poet, storyteller. https://muckrack.com/bridget-webber-1 Author Page Amazon https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv

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