Poetry

Summer Bummer, 30 (182.)

Sun still heats skin,
smiles still mold faces,
coffee still kicks just right,
and walking still gives good paces.
A mask hides it all in safety,
yet times are still good.
The future is uncertain, nebulous
as always;
with day to day pandemic survival,
later is just more immediate.
I feel it with every touch of the “Snooze” button,
and every late night spent looking
at potential jobs.
I still water my plants every Tuesday and Friday,
and I put food in Willow’s bowl
and pet her while she scarfs it.
Things are so different;
things are also the same.
Life is still there, to be lived –
I am privileged
and happy
to be breathing.

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