Perimeter

Fingers trace them on a map,

the new limits of my existence –

one kilometer from home

No more bike rides to my favorite garden

to watch daffodils give way to tulips

No more strolling cobbled streets

bustling beneath half-timber houses

No way to deliver a gift to my friend

for her birthday tomorrow

(In these days of contagion,

gates are locked, streets still,

and hugs deferred)

Like a shut-in falcon

stripped of skies,

I hear the call of Beyond

But is this new

perimeter

a cage

or an invitation?

For right here,

within the compass-drawn

circle of possibility, lie

cherry trees in bloom,

a shining canal with sparrows

gossiping along its banks,

neighbors whose nightly applause

echoes from windows thrown

wide upon the square

Here is food to nourish bodies and

books whispering of

souls gone before

A telephone link to loved ones

settling into their own new limits,

down the street or an ocean away

And here is a heart whose

contours hold mystery –

paths yet to wander,

music to be made and

poems still to be written… 

-------

Mary Oliver was right:

“Going to Walden is not so easy a thing

As a green visit. It is the slow and difficult

Trick of living, and finding it where you are.”

Rennes, France

March 28, 2020

Day 12 of Coronavirus confinement