Sea Urchin Spines
by Michael Estabrook
The landscape alongside the highway
is frozen white
broken splintered trunks of trees and stumps
poking from the frozen-over lake like
sea urchin spines.
I’ve left work to take a drive,
couldn’t stand being inside one moment longer,
needed some air, some sun.
Even a solitary drive
along the highway is better than
being stuck inside,
my face in the dirty computer screen,
fingers clicking across the keyboard
like sea urchin spines sticking into my soul.
