Author: Dave

The teacher sat in front of his screen and his students sat in front of their own
Because remote learning was how it was done, each one believing
They were part of the class but never really there, their world was an
Archipelago of solitude and safety and mass interaction was a sin, and
The teacher wondered for the thousandth just how to explain their lives to them,
So he said in a whisper “let me tell you a story…”

Was in the Spring when it all changed forever and 19th Plague breezed in
From the East and clung to those it chanced to meet like sand on a sweating
Man’s skin, and the people said it just a cold, and I won’t wear a mask and
I know my rights, until the hospitals were overflowing and even the skeptics
Began dying

And Spring became Summer and slammed closed the restaurant doors,
And the king of trumps spoke from the garden of the roses to proclaim the
Plague was a hoax his enemies concocted, but the Plague didn’t care, and
The MAGA-hat wearers began to die too

And Summer flowed into Fall and another million departed while the scientists
Counseled social distance, anti-social masks, and miraculous vaccinations,
But the King of Chumps knew better because of his impressive intellect,
And the cemeteries cleared more land for burial

There was an election and the people spoke with their votes to
Throw the Trump on the discard pile and proclaimed the
New King Joe who picked up the gauntlet the old king dropped and
Flourished with faith and common sense

Winter chilled our bones and loneliness left us alone,
While the loser cried cheater and misguided his
Minions to take back his throne by force but the
Plague didn’t care who you knew

And it was in the Spring again when the people cried for normalcy
And feared the vaccines were a mind control conspiracy so the
Loser retreated to his gilded cage in Florida while, you guessed it,
The unvaccinated continued to die

And when the plague passed people began to live their lives again,
But the world would not be the same one as before the virus came,
Because perhaps another plague was waiting in the wings,
Crowds were suspicious and extroversion insane,
Self-reliance and independence became essential virtues and
In-person communication with strangers was deemed suicidal,
And the eleventh commandment was posted on bulletin board screens
“Thou shall be virtual, the world is not what it seems.”

When I was 9 – stalking through local woods like Tarzan of the Monkeys and
Climbing every unsuspecting tree – I decided to be a Captain in the Navy and command
A ship in troubled waters and they’d say

Captain on the Bridge! when I opened the hatch, and I’d say
What’s the situation, Mr. Christian? and exude calm and confidence to the little people who depended on my superior judgement to save their sorry asses,

But my 9-year-old-realist alter ego would whisper

How you gonna go to Annapolis? You’re Struggling with fractions, and fall into a trance during Catechism class on Friday afternoons, your folks don’t have any money, you dress funny, and are absolutely terrified of girls.

Ironic how we learn our limitations so young
And our possibilities so old.

These are the victories of the light, when dark skies hide from sight,
The garden explodes each dawn with new feats of bright,
This is the realm of the sun in the morning and thunderheads
At noon, virga streaks over the Divide, and shining nights
So soft and still as unsuspected glances and unscripted romances;

We’re sure to miss July’s kiss when the wind screams
In from the North and the light ebbs and fades, but the
Magic will linger like a note drawn out by a singer,
A chance to wait for the long days once more…