The Weight of the World

For Skip

“Weeping may endure for a night,

but joy comes in the morning.”

                          Psalm 30:5

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Tiles are loosening on the wall behind the toaster.
The cushions on the front porch have mildewed.

The washing machine only runs on one cycle
and there is a massive pile up of my crowd’s

illnesses, problems, and sputtering body parts
on the highway near exit 80 and beyond.

Looking past ourselves, we see a world potholed
with war, metastasizing fascism, & weather— 

a wild bull escaped its pen. Walking on the sagging 
deck this morning I hear a choir of pink 

and white hydrangeas bellowing beauty, 
with a river of blue cornflowers

singing backup.

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Braided Way, April 8, 2025

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