History’s Wintry Swirl

 

It is December and we must be brave

For the Plague is snow pellets

Tapping with lacquered nails

On complacency’s window panes 

The viral fog of its breath

Smudges with  misinformation

Obscures clarity’s inclination to care, to cope, 

To caress unfolding moments. 

 

Bravery is shovelling the snow, salting the ice

Giving the stranger his or her footing,

Patience with the variants of darkness,

The willingness to wait, to endure.

 

This is not the Battle of Britain

The screech of the V2’s

Nor the Siege of Stalingrad

But a real chance in history’s wintry swirl

To be brave and to be kind.

 

J.R. MacLean

Jan. 2022

 I-padded

 

here you are

un-breathing glow

on the mattress with me

responsive to touch taps

playful swipes

as your warm screen

takes us places unreal

 

afterwards

you whisper sports talk

and spiritual truths

close by my ear

as hypnogogic mandalas

formed of hockey sticks

lull me to dreamland

 

here you are

at breakfast

breaking news

latest weather

disasters

floods fires and

stuff to amuse

when we hit

the shitter

hearts with friends

scrabble scores

other loose ends

 

at work you’re wrapped

round my wrist

you vibrate when I fall

I tell you I’m okay

no need to make the call

pulse and pressure normal

thanks friend nurse and pal

tonight we’ll sleep together

I’m so comfy

in your thrall

September 2023