The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Monday and Sunday in Parks

By Richard Hendrick

Yes there is fear.
Yes there is isolation.
Yes there is panic buying.
Yes there is sickness.
Yes there is even death.
They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise
You can hear the birds again.
They say that after just a few weeks of quiet
The sky is no longer thick with fumes
But blue and grey and clear.
They say that in the streets of Assisi
People are singing to each other
across the empty squares,
keeping their windows open
so that those who are alone
may hear the sounds of family around them.
They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland
Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.
Today a young woman I know
is busy spreading fliers with her number
through the neighbourhood
So that the elders may have someone to call on.
Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples
are preparing to welcome
and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary
All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting
All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way
All over the world people are waking up to a new reality
To how big we really are.
To how little control we really have.
To what really matters.
To Love.
So we pray and we remember that
Yes there is fear.
But there does not have to be hate.
Yes there is isolation.
But there does not have to be loneliness.
Yes there is panic buying.
But there does not have to be meanness.
Yes there is sickness.
But there does not have to be disease of the soul
Yes there is even death.
But there can always be a rebirth of love.
Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.
Today, breathe.
Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic
The birds are singing again
The sky is clearing,
Spring is coming,
And we are always encompassed by Love.
Open the windows of your soul
And though you may not be able
to touch across the empty square,


On Sunday we were supposed to go see a community theater production of Evita in Frederick, and before that, I was going to catch some Abras during Pokemon Community Day hours. Neither of those things happened, the latter because the event was canceled globally and the former because, although the show went on in the relatively small theater, we decided that we shouldn't go, even though it was my Valentine's Day present (don't worry, I have been promised to be taken to Hamilton at the Kennedy Center in a few months assuming that tour goes as scheduled).

It was chilly but beautiful out, so we decided after lunch to go take a walk along the C&O Canal. The turtles weren't out under the overcast sky except for one big snapper in the water, but to our surprise the bluebells were starting to bloom. We also saw lots of forsythia, various low-lying daisy-shaped flowers in white and purple, Canada geese, mallards, wood ducks, and lots of lovely scenery, but very few people, which was just how we wanted it. I also went to a Regigigas raid, with more people but we all stayed several feet apart, which makes Pokemon Go a great way to socialize.


2020-03-15 14.08.11

2020-03-15 14.11.13




2020-03-15 19.30.25

That last photo is of dinner, Chicken Caesar by Paul in honor of the date. We watched the new episode of Batwoman, which has great characters but was quite violent, then the Westworld season premiere, which was really violent but also fantastic (I'm so excited they're out of the park in real time). And then we watched John Oliver's one-man-and-a-camera Last Week Tonight, which was all about the coronavirus in every way and quite effective given that its claustrophobic end-times feeling reminded me of the sign-off in every global disaster story. At least both my kids are now working from home!

  • Poem for Saturday and Crab Apple Color

    Crab Apple Trees By Larry Schug I’m tempted to say these trees belong to me, take credit for blossoms that gather sunrise like stained glass…

  • Poem for Friday and Locust Grove

    The Good-Morrow By John Donne I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? Were we not wean'd till then? But suck'd on country…

  • Poem for Thursday and Canal in Spring

    Happiness By Jane Kenyon There’s just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at your…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded