Thoughts

These days I cover myself in fleece blankets that my mother used in the nursing home. Her name, room number and facility are emblazoned in a corner.
“if covid don’t kill me, its variant will,” I sing in sadness and
huddle beneath the soft acrylic blue, designs of navy and white,
While I cower beneath the lights of the television news
and the hate bearing down on our capitol ,
there is warmth beneath the darkness, heat generated in memory and love.