Pandemic Sunday Phone Calls

Here
there’s time enough to
pay bills or write poems, not both
this season of lack

There
at your house, socks, book,
under a blanket, hiding
till life gets better

Outside, spring is here
We compare vaccine schedules
Plot out our escape

Dear Friend,
who sounded so sad
on the phone
This isolation goes
on and on
and on
No new ships
stir the horizon.
It’s easy to forget
the one habit
this world
will never break–
things change.
Soon we’ll see a splash of color
coming closer
Someone’s on the deck
carrying champagne.
Listen just yesterday
in my garden
under the dead leaves
one tiny purple flower