Nth Wave: A Pandemic Journey in Three Sonnets
Waiting by the Door We are impatient, hope has arisen. Spring’s promise wafts temptingly 'round the block. Though calls for distance, and fear, imprison, Its pull is stronger, so I chance a walk. His kind eyes over hidden smile say please. I might respond and start a friendship here; But instead I murmur banalities, Turn quickly for home; must not get too near. As my tears fall unnoticed to the floor, Yet waits my soul, still hopeful, by the door. Seeking Solitude in a Time of Isolation Alone. A year gone by and still alone. Dutifully, we isolate and wait. It dawns on me I may become a crone. This starts to feel easy; is it too late? Evading Zoom calls, the Amazon guys The only gentlemen callers that come. Soon, patios will fill before our eyes. I wonder, will the shy survive the scrum? Though aching lonely, I seek solitude, The balm of a walk alone in a wood. What the Moss Knew Forest welcomes, all tension falls away. Gallery of masterpieces wrought fine, More hues than on a painter's palette play— Chartreuse of tender birch to deepest pine. Verdant carpet extravagantly lush, Mosses ever at the recycling stage, Create, connect new life with velvet blush. We are not wasted; time is advantage. Moss softens hardwood, my soul slips its chain; Perhaps I can return to life again.
