Morning was dark and rainy and I brewed
a pot meant to rouse words from my mind,
and the first lines came from a Covid-weird
summons we had been served and forced us to find
one light saber-welding agent of good –
they had to exist; not all were damn fiends –
and so our days were feverishly fueled
between tears and calm, neither a relief.
The legal clouds broke just a day ago,
when our legal Skywalker sent the word
the case had been dropped. Ron’s sudden whoa!
was as an actor, reverberated.
Life is back to the quarantine surreal.
And there’s nothing others won’t try to steal.
(I had a different take on use of light as a theme, but we’re still ecstatic about our luck.)