As we shelter in place,
spring accessorizes sand dunes
with lavender lupine,
spatters of golden poppies,
scarlet Indian paintbrush.
Social distancing is state ordered,
subject to citation, fines,
a matter of life and death.
Masked and gloved, thirteen feet apart,
we pass on sidewalks and trails.
Nursing home visits are conducted
through heavily screened windows
or on computers equipped with
microphones, cameras and Zoom.
Loved ones can’t understand, languish alone.
During mandatory time out,
we accept confined life’s slower pace.
I scribble poetry, clean closets, bake bread,
appreciate garden and books
while we isolate, flatten contagion’s curve.