Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

We are all under the 
same pink moon
We look firece 
We look fragile 
Scarves gloves
Discussing 
Distancing 
The dried winter brush
burns well
No wind
stars sparks
The yellow glow 
of neighbors’ 
We’ve reclaimed
the living room
This street
This town
Maine
This country 
The planet
All of us moving 
back deeper into 
separate caves
We’ve unpacked puzzles
The jigsaw kind
board games 
cards 
Stripping wallpaper 
Painting walls 
Repairing chairs 
Carving solid space 
For 
Solitude 
Comfort foods
Bourbon 
Red wine 
Meditation 
Green tea
Books 
Seedlings for spring 
black dirt green sprouts 
in little cups
Bread
scent of yeast 
of love 
of life itself 
Even as we retreat 
we reach out
searching for addresses 
connecting connecting 
Zoom, Facebook, Snapchat 
old school phone calls
Sending packages
even paper letters 
are back in vogue 
I miss you I miss you 
My friend in New York 
calls and tells me of 
clanging bells and pot lids
screams of gratitude 
battle cries 
each evening at five
We are here we are here
Planned hugs
Promises 
Shared grief
The news 
The damn news 
Why him? 
Not him
Angel of Montgomery 
No, not him 
We are angry
Mourning 
Fearful
We are furious 
We don’t trust him
We’ve no leader 
We’re not in good hands 
But
we recognize 
hope
gratitude 
so much affection 
We are 
busting at the seams
Come spring 
or summer
or someday 
We are going to fly
through 
wide open windows 
Vulnerable 
but
strong 
like baby birds
The most
human I’ve seen