It’s national poetry month.
I read the prompts on twitter.
I join a webinar
on young folks activism.
I watch the Dickinson videos
in an online class.

The candidates position themselves
for the upcoming presidential election.

The dead are mourned.
Deals are struck.
Baseball season has begun.

The snow has given way
to fog and rain
and in the plains
tornados spawn.

Dinner has been eaten.
The sun has set.
Sleep.