Contact Tracing

This is one of my newer poems in my Covidity series.

Enjoy!  

Contact Tracing

Covid is bringing people together 

and we are learning to distance.

 

Bob is in his front yard

planting a victory garden -  

tomatoes and beans, 

some carrots too…

a neighbor’s car idles in the alley

and Bob leans on his shovel six feet away

as they chat.

Maybe the virus curve will flatten

by harvest. 

A homeless couple have set up their tent in a corner

of the credit union parking lot,

music blaring from a transistor radio 

as they dress and pack their cart.

This is the first I have seen of the pair.

Usually it’s just one guy 

with a cardboard house

who sets up and night and then packs it all away 

before six am.

It’s well past daybreak as I cut through the lot.

Tellers and security will be arriving soon,

but the two seem in no hurry.

On trash day the bins are overflowing.

Cardboard remnants from all the home-delivered groceries and meals

keep the lid from closing properly

and the recycle bin rattles from all the empties as I wheel it to the curb.

My safer at home coping mechanism

is a boon for the collector who stacks the 14^th yard waste bag of aluminum gold 

into the bed of his rust-eaten Chevy pickup.

I wonder how much today’s haul will bring him.

I wonder how many hours (or days) it took to collect all those cans.

I wonder how much that works out to per hour, 

and whether he’d be better off with a “regular” job.

Clearly, I have too much time on my hands. 

Covid is bringing people together 

and we are learning to distance.

~J.E. Ramont

May 2020

THE ORCHARD - Query and First 250 Words

QUERY:

A parcel of land is the connecting thread between several generations of strangers in the 60,000-word literary fiction novel THE ORCHARD.

In the midst of the Great Depression, widow Gwendolyn Meeker Hobbs enlists the help of seasoned farmhand Charlie and protégé Phillip to run her citrus orchard. Faced with financial difficulties, Gwendolyn must begin selling off her acreage.

As the property passes from one owner to the next, the rural landscape gives way to urbanization, and the struggles of its inhabitants reflect the changing times. Ryuichi Nakamura moves his family to Southern California to grow a new kind of strawberry, but when America enters World War II, his life is changed forever. Carl Roberts wants his piece of the American Dream, but he soon realizes prosperity comes at a high price. Suburban housewives Hazel and Cora struggle to find their place in a modern world while one of them grapples with a life-threatening secret. And George, who has hit rock bottom, finds renewed hope in the wake of a devastating wildfire.

Set against a rich backdrop of California history, THE ORCHARD is a compelling tale of perseverance, despair, transformation and hope that will engage readers from the first harvest until the last trees are lost to eminent domain.

FIRST250 WORDS

Gwendolyn tied her apron securely over her mourning dress and smoothed the fabric nervously. From her kitchen window, she kept a watchful eye on the squall as she dried the breakfast dishes. Out in the orchard, the citrus trees swayed in unison under the darkened sky, their branches quivering in anticipation of those first drops of rain. Like those trees in the grove, Gwendolyn longed for the quenching showers promised by the impending storm. Though not the worst drought she’d seen, it had been the hardest to weather.

Upstairs a loose shutter banged against the wall, informing her of a window she neglected to fasten. A flash of lightning illuminated the orchard, allowing a momentary glimpse of the trees, shaking wildly, their gentle rain dance now 

abandoned to the force of the gale.

Gwendolyn counted to herself, one, two, three…

In all her years marking the seconds, she never ceased being surprised by the thunder. But more on edge than usual, she took a double fright when the thunderclap echoed among the trees and rattled the panes throughout the house. The skillet she was drying slipped from her hands and clattered against the cast iron sink.

She unlatched the casement window and nudged it open. The crisp air wafted in and mixed with the stale warmth of the kitchen. She drew in a deep breath, and the aroma of the citrus, the garden, and the dampness filled her lungs. In that moment he was there, his arm around her waist, smelling of tobacco and dirt. She exhaled and the tears flowed.

The Journey Begins

I have finally started my first writer's blog.  Let the journey begin!