window facing desk

the desk sits write against the wall
the chair faces the window
and I sit here my gaze goes out to the greenery
framed by stained wood
beyond the panes of glass
a day and a world exist unrelated to me
observed by me

an anole poised on the fence slat
green at this moment
back feet hang on to the fence
body dips up andto the right
tail anchors the anole
sweeps to the left
a perfect curve of green
outside the window

my neighbor’s house
quieter than the early morning
windows at rest inside the brick casing
shingles hang in the triangle above the brick
once there were actions that placed them

memories of views from windows
classrooms where the right blue filled
metal cased windows
memories of the view remain
while names of teachers are lost
the sign by the classroom door obscured

a post covid city

does coronavirus threaten our superstar cities?
what would the post covid city look like?
is this an opportunity for redemption?
will we continue to work from home?

cities are remarkably resilient
not destroyed by pandemics of the past
though this time may be different
now that we can work from home

cities generate economic output
with high real estate and labor costs
and the presence of information technology
will we continue to work from home

what is the downside of a non urban world?

Inspiration from “Coronavirus Threatens the Luster of Superstar Cities”
by Eduardo Porter

ode to my home

at first glance you look like any ranch home
limestone clad, long narrow windows
approaching the front door
there’s the surprise of an elm growing through
the front porch roof

many falls ago the roof was pounded
by a limb from that elm
leaving an insurance payment
along with a story

it’s hard to notice your sounds during the day
when we’re running around, living inside
but at night or early morning
the sound of squirrels racing across the roof
or the sigh of the AC before it belts out cold air
remind us we are home

I remember the first visit
one summer afternoon, not terribly impressive
in style, more room than we’d known til then
but it was the back porch with a leftover glider
where we sat and began to imagine our life

thirty years later surrounded by memories and artifacts
sequestered here these last four months
I feel lucky, a Zoom window I call my own,
shared with children and partners, dogs and a cat
this house I call home

 

In nature I found that

birds of a feather – really do flock together

during these pandemic days
when time feels somehow longer
languish
I’ve often felt there were more birds around
is this true?
or am I sitting a little longer, noticing a little longer?

right now the typical pigeon
just landed on the roof next door
and is off

our garden is a magnet for birds
a pair of cardinals visited this morning
as I put my shoes on to walk
wondered if they were inspecting the changes
Collins made

one afternoon
I watched wrens or sparrows
not sure which, small birds
checking out the space behind the porch speakers
birds have built nests behind there over the years
somehow on this afternoon they seemed closer

the most majestic of pandemic sightings was the heron
I’m a huge heron fan –
known to sit and watch one til it lifts off to a new locale
on this particular morning sitting at my desk
I noticed a flash of broad wings
and I sprang from my chair
and left through the back door
where I eyed the heron
on the neighbor’s roof
watched a few moments before I stepped
into the house to call for Collins
together we caught a few more moments
before it flew to a nearby tree and then away

this summer

no rainy afternoons in Mexico City
this summer, passports lie untouched
in the drawer, phone calls to Rachel
about a new apartment in
Roma, loss of taste and smell

hot and dry in Austin, creating
new routines to structure days – walks,
write, workouts, clear out the years,
no rainy afternoons in Mexico City

no trip to Arkansas or out
to the lake or Barton Springs
a mid afternoon book with a
cup of coffee, a chat with a
friend, my reach shortened by virus
no rainy afternoons in Mexico City