Aunt Agnes, after all

I piece together the years
Of birds
And flowers
The people
In my history
The ones added in
After all.
I have my own
Added in
After all
Aunt Agnes
A small brown bird
Of a woman
She drew flowers
Like Emma
Married Thomas
After all
And here I am
I have the stories
After all.

Other tales I have known

 In these days of quarantine I find other things to focus on, like the cat's shadow.

The cat walks
Her shadow appears
On the wall.
As she moves.
I notice especially
The tail
Swishing
In the light.
From this my mind moves
To other tales
I have known.

We had all but forgotten

 I am reminded daily of this.

Taken aback
Taken back
The usual things
To re-find
To refine the things
We had lost
So we have to claim them back
Again
There they are
Here they are
We had all
But forgotten
These are ours
To be shared

Like most everyone

Wait for the masks to come
In the mail
Like most everyone
Walk the one-way aisles
In the grocery store
Like most everyone
Pick up prescriptions
Through the vacuum tube
At the pharmacy
Like most everyone
Wonder
Wonder
Wonder
How long
Like most everyone.

Blue jeans

As a priest I counsel and hear confessions. In this time of the Covid 19 pandemic, I must still counsel and hear confessions but must still adapt to the circumstances,

I am even more
Like Julian
These days
Except I
Wear blue jeans
And a T-shirt
Hear confessions
Through
A computer screen
She would understand
She would know
How to adapt
To these times
Such as they are.

Novel

Why is this virus
Novel
Unlike other viruses
Same old
Same old
Same old
Viruses
The common cold
The standard flu
Which comes around
Every fall.
This one even has a name
And a birthday.
Novel
Indeed.

We are still neighbors

We walked around the block
Together
Six feet apart.
We waved and picked them up
As we passed their house.
They walked behind
We walked in front
Six feet]
Six foot conversation
Still together
Not facing each other
But conversation
Nonetheless

Prayer shawls

When a prayer shawl has been made
Prayers knitted
Into it.
Who owns it?
Whose is it to give?
Who needs it
Most?

Lessons

I suspect
No
I know
There are so many
Who have lived in seclusion
For so long
They have much to teach
The rest of  us
If we would only
Listen

Lockdown

This is not my first
Lockdown.
I have loads
Of experience.
I could write
An endless volume
Of poetry
In fact
I have.
I should be good
At this
By now.
I'm not.

April snow

Oh come on
More snow?
This is not
A welcome thing
Do I really have to
Embrace it?
Watch the snow clumps
Drop from the trees?
Do I really have to
Look out the window
Admire it
In all its April beauty?

Easter dnner at the hot dog drive-thru

Easter dinner
At the hot dog drive-thru
In the car
In rhe parking lot
After the Zoomed service
In our home
My dinner came
With mustard and relish only
Thick fries
My beloved's hot dog
Had everything on it
Hold the banana pepper
Onion rings
Please

Triple rainbows

I scarce knew
Rainbows came
In threes
Until the living room
On Iona
Then it seemed a usual thing
To those
Who sat
With me
Triple rainbows?
Oh yes
Of course
In Scottish brogue
Triple rainbows?
Of course they come
In threes.

Confused robin in snow

Outside
It is white again
When I look at the icing
On the trees
The cat
Looks with me
Surely
There must be something
Interesting
To see
No birds
I tell her
Only one confused robin
On the front walk.
Okay
One bird.
One confused robin
 

This is where we are

This is where we are
No
This
Is where we are
Post-tomb but only
Sort of
Post-tomb
We are still walking around
Our respective blocks
Jesus meets us
Halfway
We know
There is learning involved
From all of this
First we must proceed
Around the block
See Jesus
At the corner
Up ahead.

Jesus the weaver

I like the words that weave together
This world
And the world
Yet to come.
Jesus the weaver
The one who sits
At our bedside
Waits for us to rise
As we surely will.
Our fabric woven
From bits and pieces
From this time,
Now Easter.
What will be woven
From our time
In the upper room?

He will come alongside

I have more poems
For the Saturday before Easter
Than any other day
The thought of Jesus
Clearing out Hell
Clearing out this virus
Clearing out
Evil that remains
In this world
Leaving behind
What is ours
To do
The thought that
Of course
There is more
For us to do
And He will come
Alongside.

Preaching in a pandemic

Preaching is meant
To have a congregation
Two or three or more
Gathered together
Somehow
Gathered together.
Let us gather
However we can
Choose a table
Know that we are
All there.

How much can we do?

How much can we do
On-line
No touch
Only voice
Only face
Only sign of the cross
Which travels
Over the wires?
How much can we do
You to me
Me to you?

Words are not always necessary

No language has words
For everything.
I wish we did.
Then we might
Understand each other
Better.
Of course some things
Are not spoken
At all
Words
Are not always
Necessary.

In Hebrew

In Hebrew
The verbs
To wait
And
To hope
Are the same.
I was the only one to take Hebrew
In seminary
I received a grade
Of C
For my efforts.
Ill-earned
I crossed the street
In winter's cold
Overslept half
The classes
Received the Hebrew prize.
Because no one else
Braved the cold
Not because I learned
The verbs
Even now I learned the verbs
To wait
And
To hope
From an article
I read. 

Spring haiku in a pandemic

Hopefully I heard
The sand hills this morning
Flying overhead.

Facing into Holy Week

Facing into
Holy Week
Just the two of us
Imaginary cheering
Crowds
No palms
A coat or two
Facing into
Holy Week
In our heads
It will come
As it will.
It always does,
Quarantine
Or not.
I imagine the disciples
In the upper room
Washing
Each others' feet.

Easter anticipated

Scrambled eggs
Rediscovered
Oh, and toast
I forgot such a simple meal
With a side
Of Jelly Bellies
Fify varieties
Of Jelly Bellies
Received for my birthday
I anticipate Easter
This year
As we all do.
Scrambled eggs
Raisin toast
And
Jelly Bellies
Fifty varieties.
Easter
Anticipated
It will surely come.

Night poetry

I write every morning.
If I am sheltered
For days on end
I may add
The practice
Of writing something
Every night
Will night poetry
Offer a different person
To the world?
Or will it only be
For me?