Pandemic Poem #30

BDC RT to Lilly Chapel, bike, 8

First day cycling since fall.

Why not sooner?

Come home to nap

on the deck

in the sun,

when dominoes

begin topple,

each touched by one tiny

invisible finger

that can’t be taken back.

The end of a university project with so much promise

and a goodbye.

The end of a principal’s tenure, for brighter pastures,

and a goodbye

The end of a friend’s remission

and a pending goodbye

An empty bird feeder

and fighting finches

A heavy heart

unable to write.

B, from a distance,

cheering me on

to certain literary fame

despite my current

lack of words.

He teases that bourbon

(for sipping only, he says)

will turn me into Twain,

but to step into Hemingway

I need cats.

I ask to borrow his.

He says yes.

He makes me laugh,

and inspires me to push

despite the

certain sadness swirling

at my feet.