Boxes

I have gratitude for the art of compartmentalizing.

In one box I keep my eerie worry

about changes and unknowns.

Into another box I arrange all the neutrals:

the Zoom occasions,

the uncut flyaway hair,

the British mystery shows

based on novels by those

genius women Dorothy Sayers, Ngaio Marsh,

Margery Allingham.

And the intense, if routine, joys of cooking and eating.

 

In the golden box lined with nacre

I put dreams:

reclining on a soft bench

I watch rich clouds drift by,

light and dark combining in an enormous pillow

that looks like a bullfrog about to leap

but then a quick puff of wind turns the bullfrog

into a panda.

Our dreams lead us to wonder.

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Ann Tudor
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