cropped-florida-sunset.jpg

     My words,

They’ve marched in on dreams,

Printed conversations with those

Who’ve mastered their form

They’ve fallen from my tongue in hailstorms –

WTFs after reading NYT’s homepage

     Today, I am stuck at the intersection of

“If only” and “Where to now?”

30 minutes ago, over coffee and sunrise

I knew where I was going

 Now, not so much

     We walk the dog

I look for the cardinal who had

Been singing his bright red song

For weeks now

He’s gone – beating the lockdown

Finding a mate who loves his music

     But I am still here

Quarantined in paradise

Wrestling with each letter

Clanging demands

Words; unheard cries

Unraveling the earth

Before it dies

 

 

2 Comments

  1. Gwen I loved your expression “stuck at the intersection of if only and where to now”. As usual, a perfect description of the current quandary. As I had my coffee this morning I had the pleasure ofcwarching a preening quail in my yard. In a bit I will walk my goofy dogs. If my introverted self is feeling brave I am going to set up a post inviting fb friends to join me in a zoom meeting. I hope your day is lovely. Let me know if you want to zoom.

  2. With the name Ralph Waldo Emerson Turner III, you’d think I’d know how to write, or at least know poetry, but I know neither. It’s good to have Gwen for a friend, who not only knows poetry, but writes it and is it.

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