Election-Day Poem

On this most political of days, with words trying to fill that space between not knowing and knowing–guessing, but still waiting–take a moment to let the poem of the day rest in your hands. As a former writing teacher used to say to our class, take a minute to be in your body – let the poem change the pattern of your breathing. Your mind and heart, pulled in so many directions at once, might find their way back into your body, where wonders never cease.


Magnetic Forces

The warmth of your kitchen
cradled us all with
magnetic forces like the
rows of garnet jelly jars
on the window sill
shot through with sunlight,
intuitively finding stray
dust particles.

Time and time again,
the pungent aroma of baking
drew us from far places
and careworn worlds away
to linger over long cups
of strong, bitter coffee.

You withdrew from us so slowly.
We hardly noticed until I felt
a new and lonely chill
that would not yield to the fire.

– Gerry Watkins


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