My first attempt at poetry since eighth grade

Bumps over slush

Hard seat bumps over Mass Ave on the way to hear.
Before and after misty drizzle.
Soft steps through slush
in waterproof boots with enough wet between 

my toes to make me shiver.

Deep cinnamon touch to my coffee reminds me of the slush,
The yellow bumps, the mist,

But not the talk.