Mira Arrives

She entered the world in her own time
making her mother wait as long as she needed
to be ready, to have her hair done, toe nails
perfectly formed, ready to enter the world
in style.
while the world spins uncontrollably,
with fevers and fears, while death walks the
streets, those that are empty of all life,
life arrives,
Mira arrives
to remind us that life continues
that joy still lingers in the air
the beauty arrives in her own time.

where's my fountain pen?

Where's my fountain pen, now
that I'm writing again.
I have stacks of postcards waiting
to be sent to my mother, brother and sister,
thank goodness my father is dead,
to this friend and that, in French, Wolof and English..
to talk about nothing really, but what is happening now
unbaked cookies on a tray sitting next to me
my will power failing me.....
the pizza in the oven, I know the kale is burning a little
the quiet streets and working at home.
these are the things I will write
to my mother, my brother and sister,
to you, my friends.

waking up late

if I'm up at 1 am, I can call Djiby
and he talks until I tell him I need to go.
if it's 4 am, I can call Saliou, he's at work
and at 10 p.m.  Badou may be online
and last night he instructed me in Wolof.
I'm making progess.
Here in America, we may be sleeping but
someone I care about is awake over there
and I'll sleep late anyway.

Playing music through the pandemic

he doesn't know how to count.
whether it's Lullaby or the Magic flute,
we muddle through musically
while no one walks by and not
a single store is open
there would be no classic metronomes to buy
or new books of duets.
there are no other musicians with whom
to play as we are all sequestered in our homes
I'll play with him, the one who cannot count
but who is here, now, instrument in hand.

the neighbor

for 72, he's spry.
until he got the fever.
he's my neighbor, and we drank together
a whisky some nights, we talked
he's learned alot in his 72 years
and I've learned from him.
he has the fever
and I don't go there anymore
he has the fever
we may not see each other again.

(referring to JJ's neighbor in Fairbanks, Alaska)

Quarantine March 23, 2020

in my conscious lifetime, 

it has never been so calm, where 

birdsong is louder than the roar of 

passing trucks

we walk alone or in pairs,

keeping out distance, 

calling out a hello, a dog is plus,

permission to be out in the sunshine.

we are at 35,000 cases, 

where will we be next week and

the next

the birds will keep singing

I will listen for them.