Cabin Fever
Our warm lighted bubble drones on
Through waning sun and sky and cloud,
Making its great-circle home.
And here, as always, is the life
We lead: The stratosphere beyond
Holds death, but death unnoticed.
Here it is music, meals, and naps,
And video screens, to kill time,
To insulate us, from life.
I like the poems. Have you always written them and just decided to share them since Egypt?
Seems to me I used to post them, but not for a good while, I guess. Glad you like them. Yes, been writing them for — gosh, forever, I suppose. At least, I can’t remember when I wrote the first.