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I’ve been a city girl all my life, but COVID-19 changed all that.
When the shutdown happened, I found myself in endless fields of green and the uncomfortable, eerie quiet of the country. It amplified my imprisonment. I felt shut-in, stuck in a place where my eyes could not find pleasure. But after time, rather than wish for things I could no longer do, I started to explore what I could.
I started enjoying being able to stroll without a mask because my neighbor was far from me. I enjoyed quiet walks. I became aware of nature’s beauty around me. Colorful, diverse birds displayed unique looks and personalities. Shy, sunbathing turtles pulled disappearing acts into the water when I noticed their little heads poking above the surface.
Who’d have thought a city girl would come to love the country, seeing nature in a way she’d never seen her before. I’ve discovered my bird-watching, flower-planting self. Someone comfortable in endless fields of green with nothing but the voices of little creatures to entertain me.
What change are you resisting in your life? Sometimes, change is good. Sometimes, we need to shed our old skin and life to discover a wonderful, new self. It’s amazing the things we can love when we allow ourselves. Love your whole self today.
I wrote this poem sitting in my room, looking through my window; the water shimmers like a river of silver in the sunlight, a delightful and breathtaking image.
Serenity Calls to the City
So, I had to leave it all behind:
the view of crowded buildings
that look like the inside of an architect’s snow globe;
the comforting grating sound of train wheels on steel tracks,
of blasting radios, and laughter from multiple directions—
laughter enough to scare a Japanese tourist
about an incoming horse stampede;
the romantic jazzy serenade by the stranger with
a pink suede hat and gold teeth.
I’ll miss the eclectic art that decorates the ground:
an empty Doritos bag, a half-eaten Kit Kat bar
with a splash of mustard-colored liquid,
liquid my nose tells me originally belonged to the man
who dwells just around the corner.
Here, a caterpillar zooms by.
I see every calculated contraction and stretch
while my mind wanders and imagines a beautiful butterfly—
lavender with winking eyes on each wing.
I flashback to reality—still just the caterpillar, now a tenth of the way
to the other side of my small window.
Who knew that bellowing from the brown beasts
on the horizon could be comforting,
their constant mastication so fascinating?
I walk aimlessly now with endless fields of green boxing me in,
the eerie silence so cacophonous to my ears.
The wind is too sociable,
dragging me, tickling me—I let out a laugh.
With compulsion, daily, I walk on the plain ground with the first light.
I hear a wood thrush’s dedicated serenade to its inamorata.
The little bubble-heads of the lake retreat as I pass.
Colorful flowers entice me with their fragrances—I linger
by the lavender smell of the snow-white Nana Alba.
My musky smell, from earned sweat, interrupts me,
my reminder it is time to go back.
The phone rings with excitement,
home calls me back again.
I gaze outside—how lovely the lake snakes around in the distance,
how it shimmers like it is made of a million tiny silver flakes.