Little Bubbles

Irrational, all spring I felt immune.
I masked and cancelled flights, but somehow “knew”
I wouldn’t catch the virus. Nothing June,
July or later scared me to pursue
hygienic measures stricter than before.
My habits set, my bubble grew a bit.
But lately I am nervous, feeling more
exposed and risky than appropriate.

With cases surging so, the odds increase
of chance encounter with bad particles
of viral load, of sickness and decease.
I watch the news. I read the articles.
The stats are getting worse. I sadly vow
to further shrink my social bubble now.

This entry was posted in Coronaverse, Health, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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