Inhaling Roses

While the world cowers
- presidential news hours
- talking heads, our nouveau doctors
- news readers passing judgments

Locked in our cubes
stale air
the spirit within

Months and plans
events and hopes
all pass

Until my soul pops
like Redenbacher's kernals
full and flush and
ready for 
the buttery dressing
I so richly deserve

The divorce will go down
in the COVID column much
like every death since March
regardless of sense or sensibility

But I am free!

No walls contain me
No mask mutes me
Feets don't fail me now!

Daily I hike
not in search of anything
but to let my soul shine

I inhale roses.

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