I walk concrete paths, my vision tunneled

the desolate streets

echo with an eerie hush

I am deep in the downward spiral of my thoughts that drift between drowsiness and dread

This noxious nothingness that has invaded my world is peculiar

And deadly

With masked mouths and beleaguered breath, we have shuttered our windows and become anxiously alone

The minors have become majors

The molehills have become mountains that feel too steep to climb

But I walk

And I walk

And I walk some more

And then

Amid the quiet I am kissed by a tree.

It’s branches gently brush my forehead.

And I pause.

Even dampened by dew I see blossoms seeming to sag in sympathy with human suffering

Formerly barren branches have abandoned their hesitation in favor of hope springing forth.

I lift my eyes to the mountains

Where does my help come from?

I see the maker of the heavens and the earth in the fields and flowers

They flourish in the midst of dis-ease

And here…

Nature becomes a singular singer of promise