The Last Recluse

Losing An Entire Summer

4-22-21

Snow falls like birds of prey
and the town has whistled to a stop,
saying "It can't be us!" but
         it can and
         better than we know.
We've become clusters;
an isolated public of
eyes minus faces and
heads without brains, thinking
we know everything and many do
         about nothing.

To say I haven't done much recently
isn't saying much; it's just that
now I've got better excuses
and more people to say that to.
It's been a long time since my better days,
whatever that means, though maybe
you can't tell the difference as much
         as I can.
Is it a product of the times, or
the timing of my productions?
Each time I look out the window
I lose track of how much time has passed,
and it feels like I always end up
         back where I started.