Here is a repeat of a poem I wrote in 2020, when the pandemic was fairly new and we were still in lock down. Immigration was in the fore of our national news and the convergence of these things came together for me.
Gone is the Day
The wayward dog retreated when I crouched low to receive him.
From there I could see a rustling in the hedges --
two red breasted robins, with the dog's retreat, took flight
leaving me alone
half squatting in the middle of the dark empty street.
The sound of a motor roused me and I, too, took flight,
back to the sidewalk where I belonged edging against the unkempt shrubs.
I had forgotten, by then, my destination;
wandered aimlessly through the familiar neighborhood
silenced by seclusion.
No joggers, bicyclers, thick tongued teenage boys,
impish school children running to the park
where yellow caution tape once carefully affixed
lay scattered by the stormy winds
some in huddled masses
yearning to be freed.