Would that I could
travel backward in time
by standing at pool’s edge,
my back to the water,
leaning until gravity takes me,
weightless flutter in my belly,
sudden slap of the surface,
then total immersion as the water,
the past, accepts me closes
over me, distances me
from the present. Sound
comes from miles away so that
the clamor of politics and pandemic 
are lost in a present I no longer 
inhabit. I breathe memories
for air until my love
calls me back up and I remember
the importance of now.
                        

Movement catches my eye,
gray squirrels in the yard
chasing, playing, sparring, dancing
up and down and around the trees,
constant celebratory birdsong,
deer gathering in larger numbers
to graze the empty cornfields.
What is pandemic to nature
but a glimpse at what used to be,
what could be if there is no return
to mankind-defined normal.
What then for us but clearer water
and cleaner air?
What then but appreciation of touch?
What then but a lesson to be learned
or squandered?
What is pandemic to us?
Man’s folly.
God’s reset.
                        

I.
I take my morning walk 
and imagine I look
like a drunk
or a child
or an employee
of the Ministry of Silly Walks,
picking my way,
and I think if the virus
doesn’t get us
these earthworms will
as they do not practice
safer at home tactics but,
in the end,
disallowing cremation,
isn’t that what happens,
no malice aforethought?

II.
Now I am deemed essential
and also do not stay home,
but wrestle with the guilt
of a lifetime wishing
for importance and
now regretting I have it,
when I am lucky enough
to draw a paycheck,
and I hope Karma
does not take a second look.
Sort of.