Poetry

Female

The wherewithal Of this moment Has not defined Who I am becoming. All the while I am blooming As I am dying. No seeds have I left behind me. I have no perennial springs To my name.

The New Cease Fire

My joy burst forth When I saw your eyes Behind your mask. We ventured Through the chaos Of the pandemic. Although everything Is not normal, We made an effort to connect In the desert. Pray for Israel To save humanity With a cure. It would be a fountain Of God’s bountiful mercy Pouring forth In every direction.

The New Florida

Fire and wind Scorch the orange groves. Nothing is left Of the greenery Or the sweet, torrid juice. There is only a plowed field Waiting for the construction crews To build a new series of homes Connecting city to city. I wonder why It is so… Why the wildlife Must go?

The Dawn Raiders

At the beginning Of the morning The boats are being launched. The fishers and the swimmers Mix with the pretty women, Making a heady drink Before setting sail. The lake Instigates Lascivious appetites To surface.