Category: covid
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Foraging the forest during the pandemic
Each morning, when the red-crested woodpecker calls out, again and again and again he puffs his chest goes tchurrrrrr-charr-charr-charr tchurrrrr-charr-charr-charr-chiiirl….. In the debris of the forest floor morels spring up like yachts and private jets feeding on corporate welfare rot Senate scattered for Wall Street handlers In mossy rust-belt northern woods we call them peckerheads…
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and I think it’s going to rain today
(stream of consciousness poem) On my sixty-eighth birthday a tropical depression spins offshore and the forecast is for rain all week and I worry about whole beaches being torn from the shore and the song ‘And I Think It’s Going To Rain Today’ is caught in the riptide in my head and I curse Randy…
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Book marks
Yesterday, I straightened stacks of books I’m in the process of reading and I tried to remember where their journey began Bookmarks are a good point of reference Magazine ad inserts mean it was first opened on the porch among last week’s stack of periodicals Receipts, it began at a literary festival or used bookstore…
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The Last Super Moon of the Year of COVID-19
A friend told me last night, she and her husband looked out over the ocean at the last super moon of 2020 She said it would be just as beautiful tonight My wife and I live in an urban forest dotted with houses At moonrise we walked two blocks to a darkened ball field trees…
My husband's poetry 