Armchair Voyager
by Betsy Mars
No carbon offsets required, I travel
the world with David Attenborough,
admire the courting rituals of the bower birds
who take such care with their homes
while I decorate for holidays no one observes.
I stop the drafts, insulate, isolate. Try
not to spread: viruses, waste,
hopelessness, my sense of dread.
Taking out recycling I look to the sky,
the dark thick with stars, and below
near the roofline, the moon in a cloud cradle,
swathed in down—a gentle nightlight aglow.
Inside I turn off lights, wrap myself in fleece,
add another layer, consider the beauty
to be found, even above this suburban town,
a tiny slice of peace.
PHOTO: Cradled Moon by Betsy Mars.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Betsy Mars is a tree-hugging, bleeding-heart poet and photographer who seems to have always had a soft spot for the environment and all creatures, great and small. From childhood she gravitated to water and to green environments, but she has lately found herself also appreciating the resilience and adaptations of those living in the desert—maybe a natural evolution as she ages and adapts. As the mother of two adult children, she is especially concerned with the future of the planet. Her work has appeared in One Art, Sheila-Na-Gig, Sky Island, Verse Virtual, and many other fine publications. She is the author of the poetry collection Alinea and co-author, with Alan Walowitz, of In the Muddle of the Night. For more, visit her at marsmyst.wordpress.com and find her on Facebook.
Silver Birch Press 
Oh. Makes me want live in a place “think with stars.”
Thank you! I would love to go to a dark park sometime and yet it seems like it would really be overwhelming – the vastness.
Oh thar second verse says so much…”isolate ,insulate, try not to spread viruses, waste, hopelessness, my sense of dread” been there too too long now.
Excellent work!
Thank you, Mary! It’s hard to choke back the hopelessness and dread. So hoping things ease with the pandemic but we need more buy-in on the environmental front. Hang in there!
Betsty, wonderful as usual, especially the last line, “a tiny slice of peace.”
That’s Betsy! Sorry.
Thank you so much, and no problem! I answer to “Becky,” “Betty,” Besty,” and even got called “beastie” once! My fingers tend to get ahead of my brain on the keyboard. Much appreciated, Mary!