Secret Ingredients

Pandemic

weary of donning
this mask, this gown, these gloves, I
once more go to work

hospital corridors-
the white noise
of dying

Sunrise

the soft eastern sky-
treetops gilded in copper
frame the rising sun

daybreak-
the furnace and I
struggle to wake up

Starlight

cocooned in afghans-
bright remnants of creation
streak across the sky

deep desert night-
the great arc of stars
lights the horizon

January 2025
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