Little girl bounds skyward, higher
up and further in; propelled
by negative darkness underfoot.
Her tiny chest swells with
gasping, laughing, living breath.
“Look at me – See me!”
Hemmed in – she – by evergreen, shadowed by spring’s first dance of sun and cloud.
Far from sickness. Naive to hospital
beds and masks, to grieving sons and
daughters of Isolation. Immune (I pray!)
to intubated lungs and
gasping, contracting, weeping breath.
Hemmed in – they – and bedded down – alone- by viral crowns, shadowed by a growing
storm.
“Look at me. . . See me?”