The maple is taller than yesterday,
peppered with birds and orange bloom – aloof
below an unscarred blue.
But that is the maple, those are the birds,
and that is the sky.
And though I cannot unsee
unfettered Spring, I cannot unsee
suspicion, the revulsion of hands,
breath and similar heats
that strain against our leaning.
I cannot unknow the slow drawn wind
and the shattered hope
clung brief in a tube.
Take to your pens, dear ones,
mark this time – scrawl that once
in a Spring not come, shriveled
and short of breath,
all Springs must take their measure.
Image: Tara Meinczinger on Unsplash
Published in “Poetic Medicine in the Time of Pandemic” ©2020 by Lotus Leaf LLC.
Sweet and Bitter Greens 
Beautiful!
Thank you so much.
D
❣️❤️
Beautiful, that last line is so intelligent and spot on!
M.
Thank you Mae. I was just expressing to Mr. Stainsby that at the end of this pandemic, there is going to be a massive archive of works from around the world all addressing the experience of this event. I do hope that someone has the time and ambition to compile it in its entirety.
D
That is an excellent idea Devon! We should at least contribute our very best, if not team up or collaborate!
M.
Hello Mae, I’d be happy to do a collaborative piece with you. It would be fun. D
Fantastic last stanza
Thanks, BobbyFawn. I appreciate your reading and commenting
D
I appreciate the fact in the last stanza it sounds like a clarion call
I was hoping it would be a clarion call. I think it important that the voices of everyday people be transcribed and compiled to give evidence to what I assume will be a generalized and statistic laden history down the road.
D
Sharing this will go along way. Sharing right away
Thanks, M28, appreciated. D