Poetry soothes our soul, captivates our imagination, and makes us think. Check out the December poems from our wonderful poets.

A Survival Technique

How am I now, much older and wiser?

Lately preoccupied with Moderna and Pfizer,

Still thinking of a bright future in sight,

After we get through this terrible fright.

Holidays pass too quickly by us,

Being with loved ones is certainly a plus,

Getting by is not the point at all,

It is filling a life this season, this Fall,

With faith in the fact that this too shall pass,

We will get through this with wit and some class,

Don’t forget how to feel better,

One way is:

Find a person, go on and get her,

To give you some botox and a bit of filler.

Feels terrific until you get the biller.

Oh, come on, at least get your hair done!

~Carol Ostrow, author of Poems from My Pandemic Pen

Tea Time

The leaves are finally

the color of tea.

I have been patiently waiting

for change,

but this year has kept me waiting

and afraid

they would not ever change again.

The foliage’s rainbow’s late arrival

feels tardy like everything else.

Time is jam-packed again

these days,

but is passing ever so slowly for me.

I want this period of purgatory

and the inertia of Covid to end.

I want to sit in that sweet spot

where the sunbeam illuminates the arm of my chair,

and focus on nothing but

the spinal string

of my tea bag bobbing,

diving and emerging

amidst the steam

inside my cup.

I want to relax

with my feet up,

while waiting

for the earth to cool.

~ Nicole Freezer Rubens, author of The Long Pause and the Short Breath…Poems & Photos & Reflections on New York City’s Pandemic

Ruminations

The play I wrote

“A Perfect Storm”

Is over

Or is it?

Reactions lead me

To believe

Perhaps more people need to see it

To identify with it

We are a unique group

Living through an historic time

We sometimes lose sight of that

Living where I have a history

I see things differently now

Today, I drove past a place

Which, just a few years ago

Or was it 25?

Had no trees between house and road

Now they are separated

By fully grown trees with golden foliage

Glistening in the sunlight

Then, I passed a house I knew well

Growing up

Owned by my then best friend

It boasted a cave in the mountain behind

I think I saw the cave

For the first time today

What is yet to come?

I wish I knew

Or do I?

~ Stephanie Sloane, author of Dear Me: Poems of Loss, Grief, and Hope in New York’s Darkest Days

Ugly Ducking

~Madlyn Epstein Steinhart, author of Put Your Boots on and Dance in the Rain