Mary McCarthy Verse-Virtual 2018 May

May 2018

Although I now live in Florida, I find I still have a winter set of mind, following the progress of storms in the same way I follow human tragedies and our current political travesties—all coming in so fast and heavy they inspire a sense of grave apprehension for us all. Writing helps me see, even in the dark, the way to hope.

Night Air

Trees release the moon into the sky
slowly, branch by branch.
My thoughts rise with her
hoping to breathe easy
once they reach the open air.
This winter’s been a long
confinement, too many days
of dark clouds pressing
down like a lid, locking
us in, where we breathe
the same air over
until it comes back old
and stale as yesterday..
Tonight I have to be outside,
with the moon
and the trees that set her free.
I want each breath I take
to be completely new
and unused, clean
and wild, rising like hope
above the ashes of the day.

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