sheltered in place
our carbon sequestered
on the horizon
a daylight moon
she calls to me
from her now dark acre
along the steep hillside
this star-flung holler
a string of lanterns
nine in the yard
the green lights are racing
for the governor’s charge
we have the sun
and we have our cells
a halo around them
strewn with nails
the cars are fewer
and the questions more
we wait without silence
as never before
she calls to me
from her now white spire
alone in her resemblance
her toes on the wire
a row of beds
nine in the ward
a halo above them
cascading light
a future remembered
for the past clouds our sight
i will walk with her surely
in the cold morning light
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/14/20
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