Mad Lib

 Inspired by January O'Neil's poem "Mad Lib for Ella"

It's already 3:30 on a Saturday, 

the one before kids come back. 

I want to feel at rested and ready, 

 

but I don't. Spent way too

 

much time making docs and trying

 

to make sense but honestly,

 

I don't know what anything will

 

really be like. So now I look at

 

the fluffy afternoon August clouds

 

and realize it's almost September

 

in the weirdest year of my life --

 

in all our lives. Everything we took

 

for granted -- movies, concerts, parties,

 

and school events -- have disappeared.

 

Every day is a new lesson in unanswered

 

questions and wondering and just

 

trying to be present in our own

 

hearts and minds and to be

 

present for others. 2020 appears 

 

to be one long Mad Lib that keeps

 

going and going -- we never know 

 

what word will appear next.

 

And we've given up trying to make meaning.