Enjoying Nature During a Pandemic While the World Burns
Grass twitches on the screen. A beat-up
box fan blows a gentle breeze at my bare
feet. To the right of my laptop: a painting
of tulips in pinks, oranges, and reds, mailed
to me last month by a former student turned
friend. A car whirrs past the grass, or did
whenever this video of grass was recorded.
A plane sighs somewhere far above my condo.
Sometimes now, I go days without stepping
outside. On mornings when our family does
get out to walk, my youngest oo-woo-oo-oo-oos
in response to both mourning doves and displays
his fistful of roly polies, declaring that he cares
for bugs. I tell him I’m glad, but roly polies
aren’t bugs; they’re crustaceans like shrimp.
He still cares. He builds a nest of leaves
on the sidewalk and asks if they will be happy
there. I can’t say no. For the last few weeks,
the Eurasian collared dove on the roof has called
constantly and more loudly than the aircraft.
Is it protecting its home? Does it long
for company? If I weren’t so exhausted,
I might also spend all my time screaming.
Katie on Facebook
Editor’s Note: The explicitly descriptive title of this poem fools the reader into thinking this poem will be rather straightforward, and so it is, right up until the killer last line.