From poet Nicole Miyashiro in response to "...with the confetti of aftermath,/the leaves come..." from Ada Limón's poem "Instructions on not Giving Up"

What falls and keeps falling is underfoot as the steps are taken. Such careful steps. Such silence, the leaf crashes under sole. There is no one about, except: that impossibly tender stranger in the distance, moving towards you and you towards them and it takes that unexpected strength not to impulsively rush them for an inappropriate embrace. An irresponsible embrace. An embrace with an aftermath of numbers – dots blooming outwards on a chart of the infected. An aftermath of confetti.

May 25, 2020