Let’s see if we still have what it takes
as we write our hearts out, tending verses for each other,
seeking soliloquys of sound only poets have to find--
articulating nuances, fusing syllables in kind,
for the ride of their lives,
juxtapositions never seen before.
We speak softly at first, then louder,
each verse waiting to be heard, voices canted,
in search of dialect, the truest meaning of each word.
We nod, knowing when we’ve discovered
what it is, revealed: gems yielded in the rhymes,
haiku or stanzas,
with a contemporary feel.
So, meet me at the Pole Barn,
or by the porch at Laura’s house,
we’ll read what we’ve been writing
and welcome what the muses have to say,
in this pandemic.