Pandemic has isolated me
and yet the solo walks
I take
have opened up
a different kind
of music to my ears
silver green heart shaped leaves
susurrusly rustling
in even the slightest breeze
acoustics reminding me
of cymbals or a tambourine
from afar.
My stride lifted
and like
a dancer
I whip on my toes
no one to tell me
I can’t dance
under the cottonwood tree
on uneven golden grassy
patch of meadow
to music only I can hear
and my spirit soars and greets
the great blue heron
flying overhead to
his nest into
the scraggly bleached
branches of a long dead tree.
Inge Kessler Poetry 