Abecedarian: She Cries

Cheryl J. Fish 

At the drop of a hat, she cries.

Because of winter’s gradual

Consistent rain soaking her

Down jacket. She cries at times

Even in her white mask. 

For the wind’s fury as much as for fear of COVID.

Gradually tears drip down to her hand.

Held sometimes by one person, in fingerless gloves.

In fact, they walk together while it pelts them. 

Just like in Rhianna’s anthem “Under my Umbrella.”

Kaleidoscopic tears with sheen as days

Loom lighter. She gets stopped 

More than before when she was ignored.

Not for nothing, but for curiosity’s sake.

Often Gen Z or Millennials

Point. “Look at how she’s sobbing.”

Question for you, Mam—can we help you feel better?

Really though, can’t a person cry for the pure

Sensation? Considering cosmic vicissitudes? 

Three years of pandemic, isolation, upheavals. 

Underwhelming or overwhelming city life?

Various monuments and shops gone. 

Why even a place like Bed, Bath, Beyond,

Xanadu for kitchenware, bedding, and candy too.

Yesterday’s wandering brought wise tears.

Zealous emotions open, everywhere.