my perfect birthday,
in my mind, pre-corona,
would never be this
(there might be mountains,
a fondue restaurant, views
not in the background)
but with so much time
and simply nowhere to go
love works its way in
my middle’s painting,
a dress hand sewn by my mom,
hand-dipped strawberries
and saved till tonight
my oldest breaks, repairs me
with this card; her words
my perfect birthday
brought to me by a virus
with two gifts: Time. Love.
weekdays are now strange
because today i did no work
and yet worked so hard
shopping for parents,
cycling thirteen miles,
playing badminton
trying to battle
all the darkness that surrounds us
with blue skies and sun
badminton trials
building weights with drills and logs
and making meringues
not a perfect day
(no day lived in fear can be)
but we’re sure trying
a neighborhood walk
(though not in my neighborhood)
is good for the soul
views from nearby walks
are all we have at this time
to get us through this
here are my children
throwing frisbees in the park
(they’ve never done this)
quarantine, day nine:
presidential rampages,
orders to stay home
just look at my son:
showing pup what he can do
with our family
card and board games win
(break news cycle doom and gloom)
We WILL get through this.
we survived day four
(survival: tears, backtalk, cards)
now it’s day by day
powder has called out
waking us on Sunday morn
a soft, silent church
so simple, really:
the teens play cabin boardgames
while we ski for love
first: the moon and sun
second: 8.5 miles
third: a fourteener
fourth: pomapoo strength
fifth: learning to climb mountains
sixth: altitude high
