Not a rock
carved smooth ovate
immutable in ossified intent

but an egg
quiescent peacock hues
hatching in YOUR imagination

I sit alone by
our open
window.

With eyes shut, I feel
a slight breeze
come in.

It’s nearly silent
out there now,
so still.

I sense a fey chill
as a cloud
passes.

Drops begin to fall
leaving a
strange scent.

I fear that one might
splash into
our home.

So I close the sash
to shut out
the world.

Again closing my eyes,
I pray for
mercy.

In sweat and blood they birthed the stones.
Their backs bent in a dimly lit choreography,  
they strained to hoist the ashlars into place.
Thirty-six years in a most sacred guild,
they each apprenticed the other.

Their aging bodies lust for sleep,
but it runs from them into the cold night.
Lying there, limbs entwined for warmth,
their calloused fingers touch scars,
which mark the years on their rounding frames.

They remember the works of their labors.
The six structures on which they’ve toiled.
Their six children raised with hope.
The six cathedrals in whom they pray,
both their memories and Christ will dwell.

I:

I searched an hour for my pjs
so that I could go to bed .
Quarantine has blurred my days
and wreaked havoc with my head.
A quick glance in the mirror,
I see my sanity foregone.
The pajama search abruptly ended.
I already have them on.

II:

My office space keeps moving
as I go from call to call.
Piano practice sends me upstairs
behind our bedroom wall.
Then in comes mom with Ana
to put her down for nap.
So I descend the stairs again.
End this quarantine ASAP!

III:

I’m rowing down the Schuylkill
in a race against a crew.
The art museum is up ahead
and the Rocky statue too.
Now I run across a mountainscape
and through an Alpine town.
Such fantasies! They fill my head.
I hate exercise in lockdown.

IV:

Go out to eat and see a show
the Governor just said.
It’s back to normal and back to school
so get out of your bed.
Stay in your house or six feet apart
is no longer the rule.
I dream of this most every day.
Oh! Today is April Fool.

V:

Office life is underrated
with meetings face to face.
You can criticize a job done poor
and put them in their place.
But in quarantine while on the phone
you dare not scream and yell.
The boss, she’ll hear you acting up.
She’ll come and ring your bell.

VI:

“Thank God it’s Friday,”
has lost all of the appeal.
For tomorrow will be like today
without a different feel.
I wonder did we lose,
the weekend or the week?
Is boredom about to go away?
Or is it even close to peak?

VII:

Log scale graphs are useful
for showing change in rate.
In visualizing the second derivative
they really work out great.
But if you want real people
to understand your math.
Please use less than/greater.
When you project contagion path.

golden locks caress her shoulders
as light upon horizons’ play
softly falls the moonlit night
as stars slip through the veil of day

she speaks in tones of tenderness
as her ashen light fades to grey
filling up his empty cup
with the words he couldn’t say