I’ve stopped watching, stopped
reading the news: I’m tired

of the world’s ugliness, and no one
to teach beauty. I love this

quiet moment with my teacup,
looking out my favorite window,

where each morning deer have
awakened from the protected

spot my house gives them.
We rise together to honor

the coming day, ask the Great
Spirit for peace which is

impossible for so many, give
thanks for a warm home — here

amid January’s cold snap —
for red geraniums

in my window, foolishly
blooming, when nothing else

will. On the radio, Horowitz
plays his piano across distance

and time, to arrive in this
singular peace we share.

 

Heather Hallberg Yanda teaches in the English Department at Alfred University, New York. She is published in such journals as Comstock Review, Tar River Poetry, Talking River, and Rock, Paper, Poem; in the midst of the pandemic, her first collection of poems, Late Summer’s Origami, was published by Ashland Poetry Press.