Quarentine Poem

It has been like a million years since I have posted on this site for you. That is about to change. I also feel I have been in quarantine for a million years. But it feels okay, not lonely, just contemplative. Here is a poem about living in quarantine at Ruckle Road:

Ruckle Road Quarantine

My street is always deserted, that’s nothing new

what is empty is my table; too early for flowers

too dangerous for friends.


Yet, my kitchen, this sanctuary where I linger

to find my flavor of quiet-solitude brims

with the aroma of yeast and honey.


I turn the sticky dough and it clings to my fingers

warm and familiar, so much like the skin

of the grandkids, I long to touch.


Soon my kitchen will brim with English muffins

that I will freeze for a time where flowers

bloom and wine will flow again in company