My City in the Time of COVID

I love random walks in forests made of pavement and shops. There is wonder to be found—and reimagined in ink—in spots where the wildest creature is human. But people watching while wandering New York City streets is not the safest of pleasures, in the time of COVID. Still, on cool days when my hospital dates end before the sun settles for the night, I delight in sightseeing The Bronx.

My city is an un-stilled picture of our never-ending fight for social justice,

a crystal canvas where we write and paint our brightest thoughts and feels.

My city is a haunting glimpse into doing what one can to survive—

some of the doing is splattered with feathers, rotting mud, and fouler things.

In the wilderness of bricks and hopes that is my city, zinnias bloom.

reflection
of disquieting times,
my city

for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #39: Plums and feathers).