G.E., 72, an Editor, English Instructor, and Poet in Orinda, CA

In a Dark Time

I’m eating these cherries alone.

How many of my neighbors are also sitting

by their windows, watching the darkness

begin its slow movement, settling over the bright air?

How many in my city, my country, on the planet,

all of us keeping faith with the scientists

telling us that to be safe, to keep the vulnerable

among us breathing, we must eat alone?

And so we eat alone at a time of day

when we used to sit with our friends laughing

toasting, carrying food from stove to table,   

unveiling lavish desserts, cutting slices

for the children to take away and eat together

while playing with the dog, throwing a ball,

shouting and running, wrestling each other,

when touch was a natural part of living, down

into the grass.

                             We sat together in couples

patting each other’s shoulders as we passed,

leaned across the table listening, looking carefully,

taking each other in.  Your absence is breaking me.

The descending darkness brings home the loss

of all your warm and present bodies, all your arms

that held me in the doorway and all the little ones

we carried to their beds. 

                                               I should go to the table,

turn on the lamp, but I am so wedded, now,

to the darkness, it seems unlikely

there will ever be light again.

[submitted on 11/23/2020]