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
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