Road Trip

Last year on March 13 we made the drive,
enjoyed a weekend on our brother’s farm,
returned to face a virus grown to thrive
and lockdown to reduce pandemic harm,
that launched a year and several weeks of strange:
the battle mask; debates about hygiene.
We felt perspective shift and health derange,
in nervous expectation of vaccine.

We still don’t understand the facts or trust
much news, most politicians, rumor mills.
We’re doing what we’re able, to adjust
to civil (not) and pan-infectious ills.
We’re driving to the farm again, today,
as if catastrophes have gone away.

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

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