Reality is becoming positively surreal. Doors and windows shut, it seems. My mother has sent me a volume of poetry.
Miriam Tölke, April 2020
All’s still. And wilted leaves are scattered,
golden brown, immersed in golden sun.
The sky is very blue,
and clouds of white roll by.
A radiant frost has left its trace on trees.
Selma Meerbaum-Eisinger (Poet, 1924–1942)