Some amazing photographs were published in the NYT. The subjects were ordinary acts by families and individuals. But when the storm Sandy swept them up they were transformed and ethereal and spoke to me of life’s transience and of what endures. I wrote this for a poet friend…little haiku to hold my thoughts.

A Response.

Do not wait for great
Chop onions, sort laundry;

write when the heart says write.

The great storms are here
What if yours is the poem left behind.

The  flotsam found on the beach.

Write in indelible ink.
Speak of our friendship, my dear.
How it survived.
RAS