In the Time of Covid

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The old men
 are dreaming bad dreams.
 The rain will not fall
 on our land.
 Even the deep water
 stays away.
  
 I yearn for the earth
 to give us her blessing,
 her sanction,
 so we can harvest
 the oats and rye again,
  
 so I can run
 to the far field
 to wrap my arms around
 the face of my horse
 and dream good dreams. 

5 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

5 responses to “In the Time of Covid

  1. A wonderful poem, as always, Ethel…..longing for another time. For normalcy….

  2. Wonderful, Ethel; the last stanza especially. It’s a long time since I did that, but I know exactly how it feels. And yes, I miss it, too.

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