Chapter 41: The shopping cart.

I miss touching vegetables

and feeling their skin on my clean

but disinfectant free palms.

To pick up a tomato and gently bag it,

place it carefully next to the okra

picked one at a time, all 50 of them.

To knock on the watermelon,

reach for the greens at the very back

admiring its deep hues.

The meticulous lists that were disregarded

in favor of the smell

of something fresh and seasonally spotted.

I miss smiling at strangers and

noticing the generosity or lack of,

in their shopping ways.

I always try a sample, 

especially if it is chocolates or cheese,

or the promised softness of handmade creams.

The kids hanging off the cart

Often lost to the aisles of chips,

only to find them later in the bakery.

My bags, neatly arranged in the shopping cart,

with sunflowers sticking out,

singing an ode to friendly skies.

They say when apocalypse comes
we wont know it.
I'll probably still need milk and bread that day.

Chapter 40 : May

May,
I love the word.
The noun, the month
and especially the verb.

May,
an allowance,
leaves, flowers
and hope's persistence.

May,
a blessing,
an answered prayer
and spring.

Chapter 39 : May

I admire those who are content to be with themselves

and themselves alone,

It takes a certain amount of tenacity to embrace

solitude in fair measure.

I watch them in amazement as they carry on with grace

balancing silences,

Filling the days with details one might easily overlook,

and smiling at its perfection.

I must not on tread on this intricately woven tapestry

of pristine solitude,

Where occasionally people gather to share in gratitude

the peace that is common to them.

Then I wonder, who is my tribe ? Where should I go -

for I carry chaos,

I look at a storm and all that it carries in its raging soul

and I dance for joy.

I go to the vast ocean, that never ceases to heave and sigh,

a million waves that travel

in crowds on her vast being singing to the skies,

I am one there. I am alone. I am home.