04.20.2020

by storm

beads

 

there’s the laughing spring sun

and the powder of clouds

softening the sugar light

the haul of traffic reduced

and the sirens continuing

as a taken city’s wailing

(her) cubs or lost children’s

calling

everyone in hiding, families

in their pods, bellies to back

or left entirely for second homes

then there’s you

and others, as broken beads

mending our shape

in splendid quietness