By G. Emil Reutter
Await its arrival on this January day.
The air is dense and songbirds are quiet.
It is not a happy month as long days of
freezing weather followed by reports of death
after death, but the vaccine is coming.
Glaze obstructs the view of yard where grays
browns of winter blend with the hard turf, concrete
slabs rise from their beds. The quiet of the morning
is interrupted by the tap, tap of freezing rain against
windows that cede to large puffy flakes landing gently
If it were any other year than this it would be normal
yet there is a turbulence running amok, as if in this normalcy
there is always a risk.
g emil reutter is a writer of poems and stories. He can be found at: