A Willful Seamstress

A Willful Seamstress

She’d watched enough Netflix, tried writing her lifestyle book
But her mirror kept reflecting her inconsequential looks

So …

Several bandana sized swatches folded over centered coffee filters
They then folded over three times crisp and ironed into pleats

With one large ponytailer set into each folded end
They serving as ear loops sewn into their reinforced hems

That’s what happened when she decided to make a difference
Dozens now, washable, wearable, wash and wear again

No she won’t stand next to med techs as they stand each to their tasks
It’s just they can’t save lives without her clean new homemade masks

Tater Lent

Tater Lent

They’ve grown stubby white fingers
  These leftover spuds that linger
In a wood box in a corner
  Of the basement where it’s cool

Some call them eyes, yet as any-
  One can plainly see they’re blind
Left under this tarp in the dark
  But for the Yankee Cook to find

Time of the year there’s a logic to Lent,
  Most taters from this box were spent
Peeled nightly for a dinner side dish
  Or diced in soup, now I relent

Here’s just enough left for seed stock
  Which if eaten now leaves none for planting
Which reason’s now they’re only borrowed
  And to the earth some must return

That means Lent

… and anyway they’re gone a bit
  wrinkly dried and moldy

Wearing Our Corona Crowns

Wearing Our Corona Crowns

What is this fear?
What is it?

Don’t do that
Don’t touch your eye
Don’t wipe your nose

Don’t go there
Make a little list
  Get what you need, get out
Scurry like mice before the
  Invisible cat as catch can

I will obey all stated guidelines
Please would you do so too?

Masks, wear ‘em if you got ‘em
  The Have-Nots bare their naked chins
While the rest of us look like bandits
  Behind our pretty silk hand-dannas
All Thieves come out to steal
  Friendship

One sneezed and everybody flees

Spring yard children
  Playing in the grass
Moms with carriages
  Barefaced and bold
Girls sit their smiles squinting
  To the Sun
Boys stand watching the girls
  Yet no one goes over there

Some have died
Remember Minnie

Let us not friend fear to live