In the distance,

trees blossom.

I miss the scent,

and flutter of falling petals.

 

It’s too far to see bees,

but I must hope they are there,

collecting,

paying forward.

 

Cool breeze

chills watery sun

in unlooked for blue sky,

wasted on trapped townfolk.

 

Passing cars

disturb silence,

now commonplace

but once improbable.

 

The world waits for news,

real and fake,

and holds its breath.