Category: Belonging / Loneliness
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handful of tercets
in the woods by the pond high up in a tree lone bird calls alone three notes repeatedly does it call for love for a friend or just to hear its voice piercing tercets reaching out again and again and again in the woods by the pond high up in a tree 1-3-21
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a dilatory poet
COVID inactivity feeds me morsels of delay walk in the park enjoy another coffee break recycle cardboard sweep the porch rake leaves in mounds the city will haul away add fallen sticks to tinder pile dead branch above my head sword of Damocles hangs upon a horse hair thread 12-18-20
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Rainy day
Rain in yard, coffee on porch, Friend on phone Says hello, how are you? We talk of family, of health, Of vaccines, Grandiose post-COVID plans Last leaves launch in air In seven days Write fears on paper Consign in Solstice fire Happy Hanukkah Merry Christmas, and Kwanza, too 12-14-20
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Pandemic coffee in a blue cup
A mute yellow sign stands near the street in a neighbor’s yard signaling SLOW in black letters. You sip coffee from a blue cup as friends drive by and wave on their way to work, the grocery or anywhere, but here. The old couple with a corgi, call good morning from the park. With only…
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Gray hat
Dear Mom, today is cold. I stand in the chill where the sun breaks through trees to sip coffee. Most mornings, I throw a handful of keto granola for a brave mockingbird that busily gathers it up next to me. It reminds me of you and how you always bustled about your kitchen. A brown…
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shadow meditation
On the low wall that keeps your yard from tumbling into the road, sit….. watch sun shadows slant long across grass and into the street; leaves fall….. lonely, one at a time, their shadow stands at a distance, but….. as they drift to earth shadows race to catch them before they fall on cold ground.…
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rain check
Thanksgiving Day rain, lone bird sings in woods Siren calls in distance Watch out! We’re coming through! Everyone is staying home Empty seats in the living room Be safe, be healthy, be happy Thanksgiving Day rain drips from trees COVID canceled traditions Family gatherings on Zoom Family recipes homogenized and fortified 19th century dashes and…
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A Bigly Branch
High in a tree a rotted branch hangs suspended in air fuel for a late night fire Afraid of falling holding on to live branches refusing to concede it has lost its battle Maybe it will fall in the middle of the night; no one to see, no one to hear no one to hurt…
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untitled
Some leaves’ glide path is smooth gondolas floating in air. Some swing back and forth like cradles. Some spin dizzy. Some resist, rise up on thermals. Some go heavy to ground. All I know is that I’m falling. 11-15-20
My husband's poetry 