Pandemically Speaking, a poem

Pandemically speaking

I wake up.

I brush my teeth,
put in my contacts,
comb my beard,
and prepare for the day.

I do my exercises,
open the windows,
moving quickly
so as to include it
as a part of my mini workout.

I start the coffee,
take my supplements
with a huge glass of water,
close the windows,
and by the time it is all up
and I am ready to sit down,
the coffee is usually ready.

The dog is whining.

He wants his breakfast.

A breakfast he usually enjoys
before we harness up
and go out the door.

It is cold out.

It is under thirty Fahrenheit,
actually minus four Celsius,
as I sip the coffee with milk
and ponder what I am going
to wear to brave the cold.

Too many layers and one perspires,
too few and one freezes,
there is not a lot of leeway
in decision making.

I try to think about
how to best dress
for the best comfort
as the dog and I walk
for about a mile or so.

It is our Pandemic routine.

The house is still.

The house is quiet.

The heat has come on,
removing the cold
that we maintain
for a good night’s sleep.

The sound
of the furnace
is a welcome one.

Temps down to fifty-five
in our suburban bi-level
because upstairs,
where the bedrooms are
it is more like sixty
and the sleep is pleasant
under the winter quilt.

That changes
around 7:30 in the morning
as the furnace
works hard
to come up to somewhere
more comfortable
for the daytime.

Outside, the sanitation workers
have arrived,
stop the vehicle,
and grab the sad Christmas tree
that only recently graced
our family room.

We are moving on.

The year 2021
is not showing itself
to be
any better than its predecessor
and rumors
of violence and hatred abound
as we move toward
what should be celebrated,
a Presidential inauguration,
but it may well be
another display
of hatred
and divisiveness.

Time will tell.

It is cold.

My coffee has
pretty much disappeared
and the writing
is on the wall.

I have to walk the dog.

I have to armor up
in my winter gear
and face the cold.

When I return
I shall have some breakfast
and then face my Zoom,
a bright moment of joy
as we practice English,
we learn idioms,
I explain concepts
and I make the newest arrivals
to our country
more comfortable.

Another day,
another dollar,
as the saying goes.

despite the intense cold
of the January day
north of Chicago,
the sun is shining
I cannot help
but believe
that maybe
there is hope
that we,
as a people,
can recover
and be
what we were meant to be.

About Richard Koerner

Almost seventy something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
This entry was posted in Confinement, Covid-19, Life in general, Thoughts and philosophy. Bookmark the permalink.

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