You hid in winds and pangolins
The darkest danger of the year,
And waited for the clouds to clear.
To send them into quarantine -
Queasy, quiescent and quotidian.
Collective memories of scourges past.
Broken and brooding; sad and saturnine,
Mysterious, lachcrymal and malign.
As if tremendous times could little last
Surpassed by sepulchres of pique and pine.
The reassuring motives of routine
Replaced by daily counts and dim unease.
Alarm and fright, fear and obsequies.
Forgotten feelings - frayed and unforeseen.
Planets aren’t always pure. Peaceful. Pristine.
But friends and families can’t be long apart.
And folks are full of hope and enterprise.
Sheltered songbirds still sing and harmonize
To chase away the gloom and heavy hearts.
And know that better days will soon restart.
Clogged streets now strangely silent and sedate
Like stuck seniors and stalled economies
And empty schools and frozen factories;
When winter winds blow wild, life hibernates.
And with each resurgent spring recuperates.