Walking On Tainted Air

Curtains are drawn

on a nebulous string,

and what's left of the dawn

hovers on robin's wing,

and is tacked on each branch

like a glimmering chance.

Look at this virgin life,

like an egg that's been hatched...

We are tribes of the light!...

What was cinched is un-latched!

How the paper folk fall

through a hole in the wall,

as their once mindless task

comes a much greater ask...

...Should we stay or take flight?...

The inquiry grinds

like a knife in our backs

while outside there are signs

of a Pathogen Brute

that must dine on the weak,

sweeping down through the streets,

sending chills up our spines...

What we see from our homes

is the world spinning on...

...Squirrels dash after nuts;

pretty birds sing their songs...

It's gets darker at night,

and then up flies the sun

to warm each frozen inch...

We can all count upon

these prevailing portraits

that at once can both be

comforting and fallacious

from our aerial view...

It's a strange place to walk,

but it's what we must do...

I see saints in the clouds,

and Gabriel's angels there!...

Hope to soon be allowed

past the gates that are shared

by our neighbors and friends

who are forced to remain...

Will the curtains be drawn soon?...

Waiting with baited breath...

I will wait 'til I'm called

insomuch as this threat

will be handled with care, and not

used to enslave...

Walking on tainted air

in the home of the brave.

©

3/25/20

Bunny Villaire