Seems only yesterday
spring
was in our step,
pink petals
sifting down,
daffodils,
azaleas blossoming,
trees
leafing green,
picnics,
bird song,
giggly kids
racing
in a park…
Now
amidst scream
of flashing
ambulance,
spiking cornavirus,
rocketing unemployment,
house arrest,
isolate death,
now, when even victims
wear masks,
we, our city’s dogged sustainers,
sigh
after sunnier springs
to come…
Goodbye
Goodbye mother,
goodbye sister,
so long brother,
don’t Skype or Zoom me anymore.
Adios pandemic,
likewise Gods
who won’t alter the odds.
Adieu political schemes
and overwrought news
for I’m off to the land of dreams,
a land of milk and honey
where there’s no thought of money
and everything’s sunny.
And one last goodbye
for you, my loving mate,
(though note,
please wake me up at eight)
………….
I. B. Rad is a New York City poet whose recent work is readily available on the internet.