Easter and Spring 2020 by Mary Lou Meyers

My Douglass classmate, Mary Lou Meyers, sent this poem. Since April is National Poetry month, and we are all inside together, I think her thoughts might ring some bells. It is also Spring, which is getting lost in the anxiety over the virus, so I am posting some pictures I took the other day when my husband and I took a walk together, in between the stanzas. Since Mary Lou talks about nearby Longwood Gardens, I included one photo from their website. Thanx, Mary Lou!
Easter and Spring 2020

Trees are still blooming!
There’s a pall hanging over the sky bright opening
as we forge ahead this Easter Saturday in the Year of our Lord 2020.
Heaven and Earth no longer in tune with the fullness of Spring.
   Lonely Daffodil
Along with the  surge of daffodils comes a dirge,
all is not what it seems.
The fraternity of trees no longer awakened by the light breeze,
the fragrance we smell is not overpowering enough to set us free.
Yet we embark on a journey through the Watershed, we four,
my daughter and two friends, Cloey and Laura,
not rebuffed by the dismal statistics,
erasing the rest of April.
Will May follow suit,
but June be the breakthrough?
What is so rare as a day in June?
Socially Distanced Flowers
My eyes have grown weary of staring at 4 walls,
my legs aching for the recall of distant places,
resuming my pace.
But today we celebrate walking with familiarity,
keeping our social distance with a dog,
who has innate resistance.
So much has happened since I was last here,
the fierce wind swept trees along the shore
which means we have to find another way
to grasp the reality of the up and down day.
               Blue Skies
We’re all in it together but apart,
save for the spark conversation brings,
ringing like the chorus of a song,
all trying to stay ahead of the unseen virus,
the dread that continues to spread,
especially in the teaming cities.
      Snowy White Blossoms

Chloe gives my daughter a Peace Rose,

we think where it will grow best for new beginnings.

Like the one developed by Meilland before WWII

which made its debut in New York City after the war;

a tent city now with every available space taken

over for refugees from the disease

with Heart Island as the burial place.
      Tulips, one at a time
It is a kind of war we fight but
soundless and speechless,
It creeps over the landscape,
but the only arms and ammunition
are masks and gloves
with disinfecting sprays and purifying rights.
We have suspended other beginnings and endings,
birth rights and even the send-off ones
in a fight to overcome the unsent enemy
Topiary at Longwood Gardens

for corona virus has managed to consume

the bloom on the cheeks of children,

who must play away from other children and school;

while for the elderly and those comprised by life,

it only offers breathing mechanisms and a fight to survive.

 

The only hugs we give at trail’s end are “air” hugs,
blown like the seeds of next year’s plants and flowers
where these three gardeners can celebrate
Longwood Gardens opening to the public again
without the dread of corona virus.

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