David Watts: Blessing in the Midst of Siege

Only days ago the wisteria
    punched out its blue-white cascades
    of fragrant, popcorn blossoms. 
 
And we saw a Steller’s Jay at the feeder.
 
We are cloistered in our houses 
    dodging a horrible virus
    but it almost feels like blessing.
 
Possibly, it’s the swatches of time
    tucked into the spaces between things,
 
room enough to readjust the Stargazers
    in the vase, or hang more securely 
    the German clock swinging 
    its open-pendulum by the stairway
 
and not have to worry about the next damn thing. 
 
Last night, we gambled Texas Hold ’em with our son.
 
We are living-in-place out of place
    in a time of plague, yet it seems 
    like indulgence to want anything more. 
 
Though we do think about death more often 
 
and send letters to grandchildren 
    to say, ahead of time, what should be said
    when we are gone. 
 
Small pleasures side-by-side with carnage 
    make sharp frictions of color, 
    as when wartime accents the Mana 
    of a bright natural order.

David Watts, M.D., is a poet and writer whose books include The Lucifer Connection. He lives in Mill Valley, California.

Copyright 2020 David Watts