how the minnow let poetry back into the world

it was raining again, ice
shut down atlanta then melted
over tampa. at the pond we meet
for bean soup and therapy.

every day is a new crisis
or epiphany. busting out the  ptsd
  grooving on shame and guilt,
making amends with midlife.

and in the rain gone on for days it felt or weeks
or the whole winter was it when did we last
see   sun, a kingfisher perched on a branch
signifying fortune, signifying luck you had to open

call them i said but you didn't.
it was too spinny and dark in here
wet roads, iced bridges, lost lamps
i can't collapse hope's last field.

it rained the next day. colder, if possible.
we lit the smoke, the gist of it you say is
  i've been ashamed. i was given so much
and somehow it all turned to shit that must be me

or the choices you make i said look
look right now here's the kingfisher back
again, did you see that? he had a minnow in his mouth
this time did you see how he flew up

there and just hovered till you looked?
call them i said. and you did.