Angele Toomey Poetry

The whirlwind of the book launch is now beginning to subside.

I am back to my daily commute, my day job, sorting laundry and tending to fussy feline family members. The unsold books are in a small box near the door ready for peddling at my next performance (Thursday 10 June).

My life is unimaginable in the parts of the world experiencing waves of COVID-19, terror, and strife.

In the swirl my mind goes to nature. All the life that exists around us that humans do not see, that does not rely on us (but can be ruined by us). We are such small threads in the tapestry of life and time.

Whispered secrets 

Nature whispers her secrets to me 

Encoded in the rustling of dried leaves 

The sighs of branches provide punctuation 

to declarations that we are not ready to face the winter alone. 

We are good company, those deciduous trees and I. 

We are bereft of the optimism bestowed on the evergreens. 

We stand in a world that makes use change 

Bending us with forces we cannot control 

And yet we stand, whispering encoded secrets 

that might one day be 

understood.