dry, and well
lighted place
carves out enough
space for me
to take up words again.
So cheap - words
seem to have
become -
with chatter in
pandemic-speak all
the day long.
It took this long
for me to let a
niche be made
for sorting out of
all things not only
un-related to the
pandemic, but not
related as well.
And so,
I sit in a shack
on the corner of
our 5 acre woods
in the Pocono
Mountains, tracing
pencil lines onto
fresh pages of a
fresh, new composition
book.
Knowing that I
would uncover things
that did not need
a pandemic to
find ample worth.
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