Poetry of the first sheltering: June to election, 2020
Only a presidential term ago, we...and the world, sheltered at home, waiting for the Covid to find us. We were isolated, but weren't we all still a part of marches for George, mourning for Ruth, wishing to give more breath to those lives extinguished, and would we resound to vote? Each morning my husband put a cup of tea in my hand and sent me out to the garden with my journal to wrestle with the Universe. This book was found there.