06 May 2020

pandemic poem

this noose of corona despair
ever-present, like dust in the air,
it sometimes threatens

to drop like a familiar snake, or 
an acquaintance visiting, with
bags and baggage in tow, but I

slip away, quietly, slowly;
pretend there is no one home, I
walk quietly into the garden; I

look around hopefully -
see time greening to life around me; I
sense the clouds moving away

the ground, it stays still; I
stay still with it; ever so slowly, I
grow in gratitude

when I come back in, I
do not touch my face; I
step into the shower, singing.

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