Chemotherapy in November

ERIK OSTERBERG

Snow is falling into open water,

hushing the harsher world of cancer wards,

of fluorescent lights and cheery Christmas

tunes played in waiting rooms where even children

wait their turn. The ducks that lately groomed

near shore have flown away. What birds remain

are mute as clouds. The cottonwoods rest after

rioting for weeks. The lake is still,

still composing its November face

for the freeze to come. The snow keeps falling

into open water, disappears

into its dull, gray surface without trace,   

as if the sky were whispering a prayer  

too cold and frail for any soul to bear.

                         -May 4, 2020