Two new plague poems.

My daily plague poems are mounting up, so I thought I'd share a few.  The first one was largely in response to waiting to hear from a doctor I'd been trying to contact for a week.  Stay healthy!  Not only from the coronavirus, but from more common ailments because it's challenging to deal with the overwhelmed medical establishment at all.  (Yes, I did hear from him finally, and it was very helpful.)

Waiting

  

Waiting for the doctor to call.

Waiting for the fear to subside.

Waiting for the pain to stop.

Waiting for the trees to speak.

Waiting for the flowers to rise up.

Waiting for tears to fall.

Waiting for the heart to open.

Waiting for consolation.

Waiting for restoration.

Waiting for grief to end.

Waiting for grief to begin.

Waiting for the exhalation.

Waiting for a new story.

Waiting for words from the ancestors.

Waiting.

And then I did hear from the trees.

Listening

In the dark

pre-dawn mornings,

I listen to the trees.

Sometimes I hear nothing,

but feel their reassuring presence.

Sometimes words sail

into my head,

like the goldfinches

landing on my bird feeder.

Today they told me:

Ground!  Ground deeply.

You will know people

who get ill.

You may know some who

will die.

You could even be

one of them.

Your task today

is to ground and be

a solid presence

on this patch of earth.

Watch us

and follow suit.