[38] Walking in Time of Pandemic, Karen Sandberg

Pulling close my coat against the cold
I walk one step at a time toward night
Eastern rose progresses around the bowl of the sky before
the owl calls a blaze of crimson sunset.

I walk crunching steps over roots of trees
memories rise of laughter and stories
grow distant, the universe enclosing.
I trace lines of trees against snow.

The granddaughter’s hugs gone a year, her smiles
grow distant with every blush of dusk.
Memories rise then cartwheel into twilight.
In dark arms of winter the owl calls.

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