The Birds are Chirping. A poem by Rudy Zamora

The birds are chirping,
And my window has become a waterfall.
The stillness inside my home
Irrigates my nostalgia,
Taking my feet to places
That once seemed insignificant.
A quiet grieving
For places I have not visited;
Morocco on my mind,
And a restlessness for spontaneity—
Put courage aside—
Will I ever hug a person;
Greet the European way,
Or will I simply nod my head 6 feet apart?

R. Zamora

1 Comment

  1. […] as I had read a recent and beautiful poem by him about the pandemic. You can read Rudy’s poem here. Then I decided to write something as well. You can read my poem […]

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