My Neighbors Are Coming Back from Bingo
My neighbors are coming back from Bingo.
They're in the hall. Their loud and friendly talk
solaces me, and makes me feel at home
in this two-room flat where I've laid my head
for nearly seven years.
"Good night, Margaret!"
"OK, see ya tomorrow!"
What's up with this weather,
if I may change the subject? February
is putting on a show of spring and melting
the black snow that has grunged up Arlington’s
curbs and walkways for longer than a week.
Earlier tonight I looked up at the sky
and saw old pal Orion, our constellation.
I say it like “our song.” But is there “us"?
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 146 times
Written on 2022-10-10 at 02:09
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