Tagged: counting

forty-two days in-

here comes month nineteen

i was never good

i was never good
at guessing the number of
jelly beans in a

jar, and so began the habit
of counting everything else
.
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nine months and counting,

nine months and counting,
we wait to be reborn into
some semblance of a

post-pandemic world – the end
is clearly not at all in sight
.
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y

even now, we are

even now, we are
counting up and counting down –
the wait, our lives spent
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: counting

maybe there were three

maybe there were three
more sirens than there used to be
in the middle of

the night, even in brooklyn, we
started counting, newly alert
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: alert

on day 104

on day 104
or 105, in between
counting and waiting,

there will be seconds when i
will forget that i am waiting
.
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y

on day eighty-five,

on day eighty-five,
doubt looks too familiar,
perhaps closer to

day sixty, smiling like thirty,
naïve like eight, aching like one
.
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y

this morning, on day

this morning, on day
seventy-eight, the waning
gibbous moon stayed up

long enough to laugh at me,
or console – its face was so smooth
.
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y

by day’s end, we are