Clouds gather, a grumbling
gray in the distance. A push
from above, tiny hands of
sky gods pressing down,
their words wet with rain.
Thank you for reading!
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Clouds gather, a grumbling
gray in the distance. A push
from above, tiny hands of
sky gods pressing down,
their words wet with rain.
Thank you for reading!
-Alina