Friends, we are almost there—we are almost home, and that’s what today’s Poem of the Week is about (see below)! It’s really natural and even rational to get caught up in all the drama that is swirling around this election and to be feeling discouraged, disheartened or paralyzed by fear because of the fierceness of it and because of the stakes. (Read today’s 11/1/24 excellent free substack letters of Robert Reich and Heather Cox Richardson.)

We can’t let ourselves get paralyzed because we are almost home, and the saying is that a poll that is within the margin of error (as they all are) is within the margin of effort.

That’s what we need—we need to be giving all we have now for the next few days to get out the vote, everything we’ve got, and adding our voices to the growing joyful crowd endorsing Harris/Walz and Democrats.

In order to do that, we have to stay in the light, we have to keep positive and up, and there’s good reason to, so whatever works for you, wherever you find the light, please fill your vision with it now, and let’s take this baby home!

Here’s the poem, a stealth sonnet:

Coming home over Alger Brook
we saw, just as we crested
down from Blue Moon hill,
this brilliant yellow poplar,
like a flaw that flashes
from a gem—that radiant
thrill to see this candle flame
where all was bare, and know
our home was waiting
in its light, and now
when earth is shadowed
with despair it gives
the feeling life may yet
get right, or that at least
tonight we may find
peace, the comfort
of an evening by the fire, the quiet
darkness, letting stress
release, brief sweet fulfillment
of earth’s deep desire, reminding us
of all that we defend, the light
at this long homeward journey’s end.

10/28/24