Sandy Carlson, Discovery Drafts

Conversations in the cool morning air,

Coffee steaming in a hand-turned clay mug

A blanket of Carpathian sheep’s wool

A Dachshund and a Havanese, snoring:

June first; I will wash birdbaths today,

Plant the basil near the rosemary and dill,

Sweep fallen blossoms into the garden,

Where their dying will feed new-forming buds.

Hours from now, when the green of new leaves

Will deepen with the day and the new sun,

The day will grow hot.  We will find shade, nap,

Awaken to the splash of birds, bathing.

Reading the news, we will briefly leave home

For war zones, Washington, needless battles sorely won.

Today my students asked me if Russia's war in Ukraine goes on. Yes, I said. This is how it is; we live in our little patch, and the rest is all far away, inconsequential, it would seem. Forgetting is humanity's tragic flaw.

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