As promised, here are two of the poems from yesterday’s session:

Watching Water Boil

Whoever said a watched pot never boils
never listened to the soft hum of the water
as it unfurls into tendrils of steam,
never felt the rising heat warm his face in the morning chill,
never saw the lazy swirl of the surface
before it breaks into a song of bubbles,
into a cauldron of promises and spells
the watching of which keeps me,
for a moment,
on the threshold between the past and the future,
pondering neither.

(Anna Witte, March 2020)

Breathing Lesson

On the narrow sidewalk,
I see them coming
three of them.
I count
five steps.
Breathe in
and hold.
We pass each other,
lips pressed together
in breathless smiles.
Three steps.
Breathe out.
Alone.

(Anna Witte, May 2020)