03/24/20 First Person, Somewhere, In Writing

What am I doing with

this feather in my palm

describing a miracle…?

I’m built for war.

Okay, fine, I’ll stay here

set up by the window,

I’ll just keep a record

and vote with the bagels.

Every window has a light

and an eager stranger.

Power is fluid

authority is not;

each life has only one author

-- yes, story is turbulent,

so much depends on the weather,

but do not offer your evanescent “I”

For anything less than a miracle