Quarantine

is
the end of FOMO
sitting in the still of morning sun,
there is no one to be jealous of anymore
not even a cat.

This is the beginning of a long-distance relationship
with everyone
a chance to do everything!
make scones
join MOOC
better understand polenta
watch that movie about bee-keeping
give unsolicited advice on facebook
and
do nothing
watch time
slowly, spiderly spin
yellow, purple and pink miracles
springing from the ground
wrinkles too, sprouting
the whole world moving at a flower’s pace
unfolding
like new clouds in the Milky Way swirl of grandpa’s old, cataract-y eyes
upward frizzles of grays braided into the tree-bark brown hair of mom’s hair

And we, stuck like bugs on our backs
suddenly seeing again through the
sludge
of child time
where
it’s an endless snowday
movie-night
conversation
snack
cycle of samsara suffering
feeling that everything is possible
and nothing
and, also, just
feeling
the tremendous aloneness of being
over-connected and
undertouched

But there are surprises
like eating ice cream
laughing too loud
being joyfully unproductive
on the phone with old friends
who are
practicing taking naps
taming cockatoos
struggling to avoid their parents and co-quarantiners
questioning the legality of sitting on park benches
dreaming of Dalgona coffee,
scared of the whiff of death,
exposed,
always,
underneath it all
and grateful, of course,
to be alive.

Life moving at a flower’s place. Photo taken at the Presby Memorial Iris Gardens, Montclair, NJ.