My Window on the World As I part the curtains, There you are, Amongst the treetops, Golden, warm, and bright. Butterflies flit about, As bird calls And insect chirps Dim the fluorescent hum. This window Is my morning news –
The Killjoy
This virus can kill– Not just at arm’s length, But in the next town too, And even across the seas. The days, weeks, and months Roll on relentless, crushing Hopes of a new rendezvous, And last year’s memories. Or, stifled
Colors
For Carolyne Virginia Ashton Garden roses, Peruvian lilies, And hydrangeas– All meld together, In one mosaic. Wonder what they Call themselves, And each other– Red, pink, blue, And yellow? After the black, white, Yellow, brown Of humanity, Who see the
On Wearing Masks
There was a time, long gone, When persona meant Both a person and a mask, And lineage was traced Through death masks Kept in family shrines. There have always been masks. Egyptian mummy masks; African ritual masks; The voodoo masks
Love’s A Leap
Love’s A Leap Love is letting go Of familiar places– The corner store And the hairdresser. The habitual route To work and back. The park, the lake, And the avenue. Love is letting go Of the rope at the well.
Coming Back from the Dead
The world stops with death, The living say. But only for a while, really, Before it cranks up again To full spin and throttle, Even for the beloved, Save the anniversaries. This now is purgatory, But with no heaven –
Battered Memories
From out of nowhere they pop up, The highways and the byways; I-70 and 79 heading north to Erie, And Sligo Avenue to Silver Spring. My car’s with friends back home, And I’m wheel-less in India. When will this virus
Gasping for Love
Gasping for Love The miles haven’t lengthened; But with this darned virus, It’s no more the distance That’s galling. Sequestered in separate rooms, Bonded only by the Net, Continents apart, We pine. Strange though it might seem, The next rendezvous,
The Endemic Panic
The Endemic Panic Gone, the mad rush After a hasty peck. All the time in the world – But where’s now the kiss? Gone, the bondage To drudgery and haste. Yet, like oxen unyoked, Immobile we stand. No more the
Agia Napa, Cyprus
Agia Napa, Cyprus For EP In dawn’s waxing light, I saunter, A lone beachcomber, searching For smooth shingles and pebbles, At the water’s very edge, The odd wave lapping my feet. The brushed, virgin sand, Yet untrodden by throngs; The