Times Square is empty, like the weather—grey now, the colors drained like the empty subway cars, residing hidden in tenements, written in the isolation of morning coffee. The Sunday newspaper remains undelivered (again) as even that thread of connection frays into feral cats in dark corners and the shadows of crows haunting the hometown I never knew.
All of this is imaginary, of course—flora and fauna are absent from this enclosed space, except as chimera, impoverished by the boredom of my own company, the same jeans and shirt waiting to be worn like the trackless days. No Significant Other to keep me in, and an invisible barrier blocking me from leaving. Outside my window a graffiti of exclamation points greets me each day behind the passing cars and on clear evenings I say “Goodnight Moon”, remembering bedtimes with small bodies close and sleepy and warm.
But the lines have been drawn, and as Joni reminds me, the seasons still go round and round. We’re always captive on the carousel of time.
tomorrow
blue skies
growing new wings
The NaPoWriMo prompt today was “to fill out, in five minutes or less, the following “Almanac Questionnaire.” Then, use your responses as to basis for a poem.” You can see the questionnaire here.
K. 
I like this prose poem.
Didn’t Judy Collins also cover ‘Circle Game’?
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She did. And Tom Rush as well.
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appropot song choice to go with your art and poem. the questionnaire forces one to look at just how much is shut down. ugh. when is the next full moon? could you go for a walk under the full moon? that staying inside business is so not-healthy, but you know i understand why. i just forced myself outside for a bike ride and am so glad i did
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I went out for a walk this morning. 9am seems to be the best time, the dog walkers have finished, so not too many people out. The birds always cheer me. There was a mockingbird on the bridge, he kept moving just ahead of me, but singing all the way.
People are definitely getting restless…it’s hard to be patient, but we don’t want another wave.
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I’m so glad you got out for a walk and that you had the company of a mockingbird. How neat is that 🙂 Yes, restless is a good word for it but you’re right another wave would be horrible.
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Don’t her words just come back, again and again, to haunt? She was a remarkable lyricist and singer, always shifting and changing. I remember not liking that, and now I am glad for it. Love this, Kerfe, “even that thread of connection frays into feral cats in dark corners and the shadows of crows haunting the hometown I never knew.” So beautifully crafted, this word/image. ❤
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Thanks Bela. Joni has been traveling with me for a long time.
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Yup.
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I love the art. Your poem and reflections are so immediate and real your voice becomes jniversal.
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Thanks Suzanne. The world is both expanding and contracting by the minute.
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Universal! Sorry. One finger typing on my tablet gets tricky.
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Your images jump off the page! Here’s my favorite sentence in this beautiful meditation: “The Sunday newspaper remains undelivered (again) as even that thread of connection frays into feral cats in dark corners and the shadows of crows haunting the hometown I never knew.” I’m so THERE.💜
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Thanks! This one came easily for a change. I have been struggling of late.
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Tomorrow is another day!
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Yes, expanding, contracting, and circling over and over. This is poignant.
I really like your stitched circle, too.
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Thanks Merril. I’m finding a lot of comfort in the repeated motions of stitching.
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