A COVID Poem

In the Time of Plague by N. Scott Momaday We keep indoors.When we dare to venture outWe are cautious. Our neighborsSmile, but in their eyes there isReserve and suspicion.They keep their distance,As we do ours, in mute accord.Much of our fear is unspoken,For there is at last the weight of custom,The tender of rote consolation.We

A task that swallows you into itself

I love this poem by Jane Hirschfield: “In the eveningsI scrape my fingernails clean,hunt through old catalogues for new seed,oil work boots and shears.This garden is no metaphor —more a task that swallows you into itself,earth using, as always, everything it can.”–  Jan Hirshfield, November, Remembering Voltaire