I’m trying not to think ahead too much —
indeed that habit only makes me fret.
While thoughtfulness is fine, I need to clutch
the Covid lesson, so I don’t forget
to live each day in present tense, and let
the future come but not before its time.
I’m extraditing worry, and I’ll set
this counsel in eight syllables of rhyme.
(Huitain)
When someone says they’re proud of what a friend
accomplished or the way a soul behaved,
I get it, but I more than comprehend —
to me the feeling pride suggests they saved
or urged or counseled, had some agency,
and now they are acknowledging good work.
I don’t mean to dispute the eulogy,
but pride from distance seems to carry murk.
I process language differently than most.
I used to watch my dog react to scents
and understood my nose was like a ghost
compared to hers — her smell intelligence
described existence alien to me.
Just so, I’m made of diverse glossary.
I’m feeling bland and somewhat out of sorts.
Recovered now, I do not understand.
I’m like a gem that’s really made of quartz.
I’m feeling bland.
My health improves; I ought to put my hand
to tasks deferred, and yet my mood retorts —
I’d rather not do anything I planned.
My energy is low. My will supports
no exercise or writing. A demand
to do just agitates and then aborts.
I’m feeling bland.
(Roundel)
I’m told they can’t repair my internet
as long as there is scaffolding out front.
Of course that doesn’t settle my upset
(no splice available, no splint or shunt?).
But what’s the point in voicing gripe or grunt?
There’s no one to appeal to or cajole.
I have to wait for others. To be blunt,
the situation’s out of my control.
(Huitain)
I don’t know why I woke at 4 a.m.
I wasn’t worried. Had I had enough
of rest in 10 days home? I doubt the REM
was adequate — my eyelids feel as rough
as if I were awake all night. I’m tough
and not at work today — a small mishap
is minor — sure I’ve dealt with bigger stuff.
There’s time this afternoon to take a nap.
(Huitain)
Resuming regular activities
by increments, because it’s been 10 days,
I’m tentative, and anyhow I’ll please
supporting individuals in ways
that may not constitute necessities,
but I won’t agitate for my old plays.
For now indulging in sweet gratitude,
I’ll channel a compliant attitude.
(Ottava Rima)
With baby steps we’re starting to improve.
The work in front gets closer to its end,
and snags encountered by the last to move
onto this property of late amend.
Undoubtedly the list will never end,
but here’s a Covid line about to fade.
My attitude may mostly be pretend,
but I’ll bet better soon will be displayed.
(Huitain)
I’m trying not to dance around,
but so far no dark line appears.
Can this be true? Will it be found
no virus now detected? Fears
I’ll see that stripe again abound —
although the anti-viral clears
the system soon and thoroughly,
that’s yet to be the truth for me.
I listened to the song you sent,
and it demolished me.
I understand just what you meant —
it’s where I want to be.
I’m Covid-stuck at home alone 10 days,
but this seems easier than at the start.
Time passes as I nap, and I’ve learned ways
to while hours now. The food and meds
I want my brother lovingly conveys.
The need to cancel dates all understand.
I’m learning to be patient with delays.
In fact I spent a longer time apart
at first, and had to witness culture’s craze.
(Magic 9)
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