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


“Look at me. . . See me?”