A Crack in the Darkness

The sun did not rise today,
like our country, our world,
it is dark outside,
stormy.

I shuffle through my house,
looking for purpose,
turn on the Keurig
and open my laptop
to headlines warning
disease . . . death . . . quarantines.
I close the lid.
The gloom within rumbles
threatening to unloose me.

What armor will I wear today –
a Zumba dance on You Tube,
an attempt at baking ciabatta,
crossword puzzles, jigsaw puzzles?

We think ourselves genius,
but the microworld
has outsmarted us –
a piece of RNA holds us hostage
in our homes.

Yet just outside the door,
the world we can see thrives –

a doe tiptoes across a distant field,
dotted with daffodils,
and dark-eyed juncos alight
at my feeder –

I need to be grateful . . .

Another glimpse out the window
makes me smile.
A persistent sun has found
a crack in the darkness.

Betty Naegele Gundred

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Betty Naegele Gundred has enjoyed writing since high school when she was editor of her school’s literary magazine, though she taught middle school science for twenty years. Her work has appeared or will soon appear in publications such as Current, The Heron’s Nest, Frogpond, Last Leaves, Months to Years, Orchards Poetry Journal, and Open Door Magazine. Betty lives with her husband in the Sierra Foothills of Northern California and enjoys Zumba, hiking, and photography.

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