It is March

Morning of March 24, 2020

It is March
But after a day of
windows, doors open
Upstairs it smells
like summer.

Don’t worry, the
bee-fly’s proboscis
that looks so menacing is
only for drinking nectar.
Phew, says my daughter.

I am downstairs,
writing this, thinking that.
My wife is at the top of the house
keeping herself
to herself.

Viral load
is a newly learned
phrase like so many others
suddenly now familiar
with urgency.

Horse jumps
litter the garden –
Circles of compressed ground.
We move the jumps often
to preserve the grass.

File under
Are you feeling it? Poems