To: Despair, in Mid-assembly, Watching
By Barbara Young
by evil elves–
go blowing off.
Should you chase it? A sad, wild-armed
Bury your face and cry? Quick, hide
pretend you don’t–
just sometimes– hope.
Barbara Young is aging without grace in Middle Tennessee. She thinks she’d like to be a poet if she grows up, but won’t bet on it. Her blogs went South for the winter holidays, may now be in Cuba.