Bio Note: I live with my wife in a northern exurb of Westchester. My poems are shaped by years of pop culture and countless hours of music. Teaching, which in a normal year can keep one young, ages one needlessly during a global pandemic. I have four collections, including the recently released A Careful Contrition (Shanti Arts Publishing), as well as two nifty chapbooks.
There is a world within the world. Rain-slicked emptiness makes roads echo, rips reality in two. Disparate reports of concussed confusion change all that we once knew. There is space punctuated with unspoken harrowing dread in sharp contrast to hello of drooping magnolia blossoms blooming, pear tree buds opening, vibrant forsythia’s neon yellow, pretty daffodils swaying indifferent to latest numbers of overnight dead. And skunk cabbage leaves grow ever thicker covering ground as army engineers turn empty spaces into hospital beds for newly sick growing sicker. It truly is a world of wonders. Even as we isolate, stand apart and cogitate, ponder long and contemplate this somber state of change. Around us hawks are circling woodpeckers on their noisy mission, strangers to this plague’s contrition, and all its senseless loss. It surely is a pretty scene, sun-dappled afternoon serene, as nature goes about its shifts oblivious to ours. The world within the world exists, buried deep in leaves and sticks, its beauty rolled in verdant mix to help us past the gloom. We walk to keep the news away while nature soars above the fray. Rejoice. Here is another day returning slow to form, adapting to new norm.
©2021 Gary Glauber
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