Normal

There is an atmosphere in the city

A quietness that pervades into every pore of her.

A distrust, a waiting.

How long will this equilibrium last?

How much longer can we go outside?

Arrangements are being made.

Leave the city whilst you can.

'Be where you need to be.'

'You have until next Thursday'.

I cry when he shuts the door to go to work.

I don't know when I will see him again,

Or if I even will for he is leaving too,

Back to the other side of the world

I try not to think about how lonely he is as I pack my things to run

I am home now, and it almost feels normal.

We wipe the surfaces down more,

I avoid touching my mother.

My father is not one for touches.

I arrange walks at an appropriate distance.

I sit and sew things I will never use.

I wait for news updates.

The equinox has come and the daffodils welcome the spring with their trumpets.

Do the birds notice the difference?

They sing anyway, going about their spring rituals.

The plants definitely don’t notice.

The trees are still the same as they were last year.

Perhaps a little taller.

I feel smaller.

The plans for my life put on hold for a time,

But I will wait, and I will sew, and I will walk,

Until life gets back to normal again.