I thought at first
It was just me
Getting old
And I am of course
But No.
I am busier at work
With exciting projects
Daily.
I still ramble about
From town to town
In search of
Community
And I am blessed
With family and friends.
I cook, clean, entertain
Myself
And I would still
Entertain others
If only they
Would come out and play.
Was it COVID
Or video games
Or just the malaise
From a world turned ugly?
The climate fear
The war that robs our treasury
The hatred spurred by
The struggle for power
The censorship
The deplatforming
The name calling
All and more isolate
Separate
Inculcate us
With a sense of NO.
No I cannot be your friend
No, gas and everything
Cost so much.
So we have forgotten
The simple joys
Of just hanging
Crafting our own days
With that reckless abandon
That joie de vive
That our podworld
Cannot
Will not
Must not
Let happen.
Gone are the days
Of shelling peas
And butter beans
And shucking corn
And playing cards
And quilting together.
Gone even are the memories
Of 'the good times we had'
The raspberries strawberries
The cheap [good] wines
The little gatherings
That celebrated our need
For one another.
And our thankfulness
For those with whom
We could share
Life's simple pleasures
That made it possible
To endure the heartache
The suffering
The diseases the deaths
The inevitable time
When some of us
Are no longer around.
Perhaps
Economic collapse
The end of hope
The fulfillment
Of the media's dark tomorrows
Will lead us back
To interdependence
To true friends
No matter their opinions
Their pronouns politics pods.
Or maybe such revolutionary thought
Will displease the powerful
And turn freedom of assembly
Into a criminal act.
