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June 27, 2022

Nights Adrift

By Frederick Foote

Nights Adrift

The restless winds
molest without regard
to rights or right of ways

In the dark in my
windswept bedroom calmed
by a lullaby of distant traffic
on the road and in the sky

The wind
a twin to the Coronavirus
but with a less potent embrace
and a release from summer's
warm, wicked, wiles. I turn
wearily to tomorrow's rising
tide of infection, conflict,
deception and death
clinging to the hope
that it is better
to be counting
than to be
counted






Article © Frederick Foote. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-11-02
Image(s) are public domain.
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