COVID-19
This morning I went to the clinic for the laying-on of hands.
Snow and brittle ice still rest in shadowed places. Squirrels
argue or court in the spruce trees. We hold hands, my love
and I, as we walk the river trail, wind groping our winter jackets.
Another couple passes, faces masked with scarves. Our dog
is happy, unconcerned, sniffing all the scents and contaminants
in every bush and stone along our way. The sky stays flat and high,
where it belongs. There are no humans playing in the park,
no other dogs, this cold afternoon. The news, grim and gray
as the day, follows us outside, dogs our footsteps in an unfriendly
way. We, of the threatened demographic, walk carefully in our aged
bodies, breathing this vulnerable air.
sharon brogan
march 02020
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