In like a lion
(after Jeannine Hall Gailey)
This week is so strange: crocus open
beneath the ancient cherry tree as Russian bombs
fall on the Mother of Cities; mask mandates drop
and my head throbs with the whiplash
weather. I feel I should be tough, resilient
as the flowers, but my body betrays
me with fevers, dark circles, a nagging cough,
uneasy dreams – it knows things
are really not okay, no matter what
meditation apps, herbal teas, or vitamins
I apply to this uncomfortable spring.
I read this blog post by Jeannine Hall Gailey a couple days ago, and images and thoughts from my own week coalesced around her words. The poem practically wrote itself.
The Daily Compost 