A Saturday morning in March
All is quiet
Except for a few cars on the street
And the occasional person
Head held low against a blustery wind
Just the eerie sound of a dog barking
In the distance
The new normal
In my mind’s eye I create a virtual library
Of movies, books, and songs
The Seventh Seal
Life during Wartime
Not to ignore the crisis but as a reminder.
It has happened before and it will happen
Again. And yet here we all are.
I look at the cover of the current New Yorker
The ball of red spikes
A single human figure stuck in the middle.
How can something so lovely be so dangerous?