Without
these shadows, how
will I know where to find
corners to coax me to believe
in light?

Snow squalls
burn through the day.
Crashed semis in flames.
It’s a miracle no one dies
out there.

Into
this dark winter,
miracle can’t be the
science we follow to beat this
virus.

Stop the
dying. So much
depends on words that fail.
They sink straight to the bottom as
ice forms

above.
My vote is my
vow is my voice as it
gets entangled with others to
become

one long
break—beautiful
disturbance that spreads as
ripples to awaken water
beneath.