Routine

He puts the tears
back in his eyes
and heads to the coffee shop
on the corner
finding refuge
in routine

They make him his usual and
His name on the cup
Reassures him that
he is recognizable
on the outside
though inside
he's come apart

A Poem For Lydia

Mourn the storm once it's passed

It was destructive and frightening

But also electric and alive and I've seen what beauty that kind of energy can create

I've laughed in spite of myself feeling the raw power rushing past my ears

It's still

And quiet now

And so

I can allow myself

to appreciate what is lost