Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

We braid our street With footsteps, intersecting paths, and meet Always six feet apart Too far to share The beating of our hearts But wave and we Make this our art.

The trouble with internet meetings is we're forced to see ourselves as others see us and I look old.

I did not answer Did not see Your message. Did Not mean To leave you hanging. No reply. Now I’m Delighted that You caught me. Found me innocent No hanging offense After all, or fence To separate us, but We’ll meet. I’m glad You’re going To drop by.

High in her tower – the flowers like pinpricks below— She longs to be down where her lover awaits But she’s trapped, cupid’s arrow still wending its way Through her heart, through her soul, through her dreams Leaving pinpricks that bleed. High in her tower, with hair growing longer, it seems Still the answer is no… Still the arrow… Still longing and so… “Oh Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Oh let down your hair,” But only the doorkeeper climbs by that stair. Oh Rapunzel, still longing and so… High in her tower, she lets down her hair Like a bridge from the heights to the depths of despair Or like hope, and she draws up the silk for the making of rope. Then the answer will please; Then the two shall be free. Then high in her tower is she.

It was only a tiny hole in the fence but my puppy escaped and was killed on the road through that hole and I wished I’d asked Dad would he fix it before it could happen— always too late. It was only a tiny flame on the tip of the firework that flew the great gorge where the wild winds blew and fire raged and he wished he’d played something different that day but it’s always too late. It was only a quick cup of coffee me closer to you and to somebody else just a few strangers too close till somebody close found the beds were all full and there weren’t any masks and the doctors were ill and we wished we’d skipped coffee perhaps and perhaps it’s not yet too late. And the fire burned out and the new dog was sweet and coffee was served with some treats at the funeral.

Plague has emptied sacred sites while shoppers prey and fill the empty aisles.