Social Isolation:14

Poems began for me
   with my first isolation.
Moved from a convent school
   in England to a farm
in the Midwest (don't ask)
             suddenly
no one to talk to
   in my half-phony accent.
Nine years old
   and only sheep 
to fill the time.
               Rain let up one day
in early spring
   and solitude and sense had me
write down how it smelled
   outside just after.
It was a day not unlike this one--
   quiet, damp, missing people--
and yet, of course, another world entirely.


S. Robbins, March 31, 2020
  

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s