Tag Archives: hollow


by Ethel Mortenson Davis

One doesn’t unravel
when branches strain
with too much snow,
or the cold
makes the ground
sound hollow—
an empty sound.

One doesn’t unravel,
but instead the cold
wakes us up—
sharpens us
like the jagged ice
along the Bay–

Crying out to us,
“Stay back,
“Stay aware!”


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry