Under the Sky

News drops like a rain,
like autumn’s last leaves
coming down on the roof.
They do not stop, these
moments of revelation,
the good ones, and the
hard ones, too.

The sky changes all day,
where once there was light,
now there is shadow,
warmth before and now
we reach for blankets
and for one another,
which is to say

let’s do this together.

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After A Day of News

All day it rose
like a tide,
the full moon
in my throat,
though I was
not ready for
that blue light,

so when night
fell, the whole
house empty,
candle lit and
dishes placed,
it’s then that
it appeared,

the patient
moon, like a
great sob, the
closest chair
an anchor
and my tears,
the opening sea.