For Skip
“Weeping may endure for a night,
but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5
Tiles are loosening on the wall behind the toaster.
The cushions on the front porch have mildewed.
The washing machine only runs on one cycle
and there is a massive pile up of my crowd’s
illnesses, problems, and sputtering body parts
on the highway near exit 80 and beyond.
Looking past ourselves, we see a world potholed
with war, metastasizing fascism, & weather—
a wild bull escaped its pen. Walking on the sagging
deck this morning I hear a choir of pink
and white hydrangeas bellowing beauty,
with a river of blue cornflowers
singing backup.
