Author Archives: David Hanig

Only now,

After months of ceaseless isolation,

Only now,

I only know this one thing:

To admit Whoever appears

Into the vestibule

The calico cat clambers up her

Carpeted cat tree and

Plants herself on the highest rung.

We are that bush,

That bewildered thicket the divine

Kindles with a fire that flares in our hearts.

I gaze out my window to the back yard.

This time of year, my landscape usually

Wears a grey visage,

I listen to the Zoom diaspora chanting Kaddish.

This kaddish, sung over the web,

Dissolves into a babbling cacophony.