Social Isolation: Day 33

Give to airy nothing
a local habitation and a name,
I quote to kids.
They get it, love to write
about their Giggling Pig,
their Black House Road,
Aunt Maud.
 
Maybe, as an exercise,
I will unknow the names
of things, wait for them
to tell me who they are.
 
I named this day windy,
wet, gray, and Tom
outside to batten
hatches down.
 
I could walk backwards
through that naming—
Saxon, Latin, Greek,
the Neolithic—to a shimmery,
airy nothing and the silence
that it speaks.
 
But though there are a few sounds
lacking grace and generosity
I hope to never hear again,
I am a language-making primate
and welcome back that rush of words
that clamors to get in: wind, wet,
road, love, local habitation.
 
 
Sherry Robbins, April 19, 2020

2 Comments on “Social Isolation: Day 33”

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