I write to survive.
We’ve given up trying to forgive
the people who refused vaccines.
We’ve given up trying to forgive
the hateful faces forcing their way through the doors.
My yard has hummingbirds in spring,
bees in summer
at the lavender under my window.
My belief in saints is eroded
I hope the hummingbirds will forgive me
and slow the blur of their wings so I can see
the brilliant iridescence of compassion.
Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside
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