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A Human Hankering

The calendar counts the weeks and months of COVID. Yet, every pensive daybreak I am granted that for which I never asked. Of course, suffering sickness and death tolls are endlessly morbid. Still, my morning strolls find dazzling nooks where wonder is unmasked. Plentiful pansies splash passion rainbows over meadowlands unrequited. Common Windmill palm trees display fan palms like broad hands. Neighborhood lawns spawn hankerings for cornucopias delighted. Each new day contains unique complexions, signature ambient wavebands. I am an animal of textures, but the relentless pandemic compels tactile chill. By what right am I awarded these winsome private moments on each stroll? Rain drums on the roof like an invocation, and I touch the palpable thrill. Nature’s rhythms are carried on wings of monarchs and in the birth of a tadpole. At last, I am not alone but connected to rugged bluffs and smooth beaches. Finally, I realize without these endowments, existence would be impossible. I am meant to discover all the simple prodigious self-ordering reaches. In understanding them, I see no beginning or end, only that I am tangible.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 2/19/2021 9:57:00 PM
I like this poem about finding hope in adversity. The ability to find it is essential in times like these.
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Thomas Wells
Date: 2/21/2021 5:14:00 PM
Thank you, Jennifer! That's exactly it. Have a wonderful day!
Date: 2/11/2021 1:13:00 PM
My, my, you do have a way with words. Your imagery is fascinating, and I love the interesting rhymes. Thanks for giving us this piece.
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Thomas Wells
Date: 2/12/2021 2:41:00 PM
Thank you, sir! You have made my day a little brighter. Have a wonderful evening.