November 2020 Remembered

On this dark pandemic morning,
I vacillate on the edge of a dream —
unwilling to move forward, unable to rest within
I unwrap in increments.

I vacillate on the edge of a dream
of you and me cradled in a warm ocean.
I unwrap in increments —
unravel; dissolve; disappear. I feel

you and me cradled in a warm ocean,
but we had to cancel, like so many of our plans —
left behind to unravel, dissolve, disappear. I feel
the cold slap as my feet hit the floorboards

And so I remain unwilling to move forward,
but unable to stand still.

Inspired by dull November mornings. Photo by Nancy.

Black Swans

    “May you live in interesting times.”
     This is a curse, purported to be of Chinese origin, although that, like everything on the internet, is debatable. Let’s at least agree that these are interesting times. Within the last two years we have experienced, in biblical proportions, droughts, floods, fires and pestilence. Now there is a bloody war, started by a man intent on reconstituting a fallen, unlamented empire and threatening nuclear war to get his way.

An unexpected event with massive, catastrophic consequences is called a “black swan.” They used to be rare as hen’s teeth. Now they come in flocks.

This post hearkens back to the days of Close Encounters of the Bird Kind, when avian conflict (and avian flu) were all we had to worry about. The photo is by Dorothe Wouters.

One Copes

When asked what he did during the French Revolution, the Abbé Sieyès replied, “I survived.” I’m grateful to say the same (so far) of the pandemic. Yes, it’s tedious. Long, properly-distanced walks in the city distracted for a while—until I’d walked everywhere. A new bike, I decided, a shiny roadster for my Tour de Here. Hahahaha. Global supply chains are locked up tighter than Gitmo. Often I met friends in the park. First we had a brisk walk then, two meters apart, a beer on a bench. Sometimes we forewent the walk. Sometimes I forewent the friend. One copes.

Links are to previous Exquisite Corpse pandemic-era posts to show how we’ve coped. 

Postcards From the Pandemic

Tourism in the pandemic leaves much to be desired. Forget flights or trains. All destinations are local. There is much to witness from your window or balcony. Birdsong. The moon. A cloud. Maple blossoms (which you’ve never noticed before) are striking. Sunset is must-see.
     Venturing further afield, find somewhere you can walk without breaking the two metre protocol. Forget dining out. If there is any good in this, it’s that you can’t stage a food-porn photo of your restaurant meal. The new normal is you, all alone, sightseeing in your mask. Post that to social media and wait for Likes.

Pandemic Togetherness

There are no clubs or cozy cafés, no pints on tap, no films downtown, so at exactly 7:30 we stand on the sidewalk, appropriately distanced of course, and launch into cacophonous tribute with our pots and pans as a between-calls ambulance cruises slowly past and replies with a siren WHOOP and lights, and we bang our cookware harder, hearts bursting, who doesn’t love a parade, grinning like idiots and telling the kids, you’ll remember this—then we all peaceably disperse, thankful for our responders and our fellow citizens and the relative sanity of our politicians, and knowing we are #StrongerTogether.

Photo by Ron Thompson, April 2020