In my window there is a tree gathering elegance
now that the Rockies promise winter’s snows are done.
I’m living too unobserved to be elegant.
Zoomed, I am no longer sure. I have become confused,
befuddled, thrilled with an uncertain thought –
I no longer know which side is my best.
Every Tuesday evening, I wear the apron,
adjust the hat to regale an invisible audience
while my skilled fingers craft the perfect meal for one.
I decay inside. Inside. Grey hairs sown into winter breeze.
Birds thread nests with my silver.
After death, I will gleam again in summer rays.
Maureen Seaton is a poet in solitude in Colorado for four seasons now due to a health condition that has progressed during Covid. One gift is her room’s only window, which faces south and provides a view of a linden tree. At the moment the tree is once again covered in snow.
Lynda V. E. Crawford is a poet who has lived in the USA longer than her childhood home Barbados. Both “homes” sway and punctuate her writing. She’s let go of journalism, copywriting, website management, and email marketing. Poetry won’t let go of her.
Asha Krishna lives in Leicestershire, UK, and writes short stories and flash. She has been published in print and online. She tweets as @ashkkrish
Zoe Popham writes short stories and scripts and has been published in anthologies such as 100 Words of Solitude, Strange Spring and Bangkok Blondes. She spent the second lockdown in Cascais, Portugal.