Our Legacy

Not always monochrome,
this thing called life.  Yesterday,
the day so gray the mist almost
seeped into the brain.  Not quite
rain, but damp and chill.

Today the sun’s so bright…
as if it never will quit shining.
Involuntarily I am humming
a happy song.  The sharp edges
have rounded, blended.
The inconvenience

of confinement becomes another
thing… a gift of time to contemplate
being.  This situation not of our
choosing, but viewed in the right light
it can become a time

to clean the gathered cobwebs
from our minds…a time to realize
that life and breath
should not be wasted on ‘what if’ …
because every moment
becomes our legacy.

Who Is that Masked Man?

Gone, the squeal of doors
that hermetically seal our children,
sans seatbelts, into rows that overflow
beyond the cushioned seats
made softer to protect.

I miss the sights and sounds
of those pencil yellow buses,
absent now as if engaged
in perpetual
recess.

Teachers, students, and all
the stages in between are learning
an in depth meaning of furlough.
Suddenly we are aware of the slightest
sneeze, the merest twinge

that might propel us
into that hinterland of quarantine
where skin tone and language
merge into one,  and masks protect
both the guilty and the innocent.