just for today I won't worry,
though my heart hurts for those who must--                  

because pollution on Planet Earth shields us
from space storms, the scientists are winning

the booster race for vaccines against various
pandemics and law and order have a sometime

majority against media-fueled crowds
and ways to reduce our carbon budget include

turning down our new thermostats
and our new garage-door opener works

and our local neighbors are friendly folk
and saunas are a cure, the lecturer says,

for depression, and vegetables
will extend our life spans

and music will make every creature happy,
including my plants, so tomorrow I plan

to walk a few miles with bird-watching friends, 
paint, or write, read a little, talk a little,

listen to Will's accordion.
                        

—for my sister poets

We are the poets--tribe, band,
wanderers following Pegasus's hoofprints
through tall grass prairie, mud and sand,
up screed mountain slopes, down
avalanche alleys, through ice
and fire, love and after, dream
and disaster, diggers inscribing
yellow pads with images stolen
from air, a voice on the wind,
each voice distinct, listening
together for the true music
testing again its wings.