Washing Hands

 

I am a bit OCD about hand washing. Then Covid hit. Ouch. Worse. I’suspect I am not alone. This poem is a nudge nudge wink wink to me  and all those as we slowly undo the fear and change the pattern to washing when appropriate.

 

MY FARMERS' MARKET: 2009

Summertime 2009. This poem was written in a different time. My heart hurts at the enormity of ongoing greed, duplicity, violence, and hate, which has been revealed and multiplied since then. Take some sustenance from simple pleasures and connections recounted in this poem. They still exist in our country. They will help our hearts. They will help us stay juicy for the long task of freeing our nation and our people from deliberate enslavement.