The air is untrustworthy
in the vein of neighbors, friends and strangers.
Essential floats on a field of grey
and distance rules the day,
but food is perishable as people …
so I put on the mask.
My lasting companion,
bound by these rings,
is shaken by uncertainty.
In need of grounding,
she reaches out for balance …
and I put on a mask.
Our children are unmoored,
adrift in the rough hours of the sun.
Barred from familiar harbors and havens,
they seek a confident Captain …
so I put on my mask.
Shadows lie quiet in stark lines,
accustomed colors broken like winter’s plans.
Unfettered as obligations softly snore,
various scenarios rise and fold to form
dark, origami tomorrows …
and I have no more masks.
© 2020 Mike Porter