the sun's in hiding. Morning drapes open
to darkness. Later, when I walk, flakes spin grey
against white sky. Beyond this snow-globe bubble
fires burn, bombs drop. I look behind
at my footprints, how my heels drag
with every step.
A driver honks to warn a squirrel
daring to cross the street -- gesture
of small comfort. I'll keep
pulling the curtains back. I'll pick up
Jeannie Prinsen lives with her husband, daughter, and son in Kingston, Ontario, where she teaches an online course in essay writing at Queen's University. Her writing has appeared in Juniper, Fathom, Relief, Barren, and elsewhere.
Twitter: @JeanniePrinsen Blog: Jeannie Prinsen (http://prinsenhouse.blogspot.com/)
About this poem
'I wrote "These days" in early 2020: news from Australia and Iraq hung heavy over the world, and I was pondering whether the tiny acts of compassion we see around us make any difference at all. I hope so.'