STILL
There are still birds, still things coming to life
in unexpected ways. Still nights and days.
Nocturnal, diurnal. Circadian rhythms
scratching an itch at the back of the throat.
Still family, still friends. Still love
slapping you silly with its rubber tongue,
salt that makes your stomach sing a psalm,
palettes of rusted foliage, stray bees
in November, still buzzing in the lavender.
—from Poets Respond
November 10, 2020
__________
Marc Alan Di Martino: “For four years our attention has been kidnapped by the fiasco of this administration. For several days and nights, the world has done little else but watch as each vote is tallied in a handful of states that will determine the course of the next four years, maybe longer. This morning I opened the windows. The world is still, somehow, there.” (web)
