Napo 28

I have to admit, I'm getting some fatigue. I guess that's to be expected during normal times, and I suppose during a pandemic too. Most days I'm totally fine, but I find myself just not wanting to do things anymore. Ritual and routine are vital to me, so follow them, go through the motions. Morning writing is one of those rituals. So is daily tidying of the house. 

I want to write more and with more depth and complexity and urgency and passion, but I don't know, I'm having trouble channeling that. Maybe once the semester is through and I'm staring at a long, glorious summer ahead. I need to find a new project to get fired up about. Napo has been a nice distraction. But I need direction. I'll find it, soon. 

Until then:

Tidying During COVID-19

This morning smells of bleach

And lavender soap. I make it so:

I wash the sheets each morning

After waking, a ritual to keep

this Eden clean. I snap the wrinkles

from the sheet and lay it on the

bed—it’s bright white catches

the rays of sunlight streaming in

through the window. Even the blinds

can’t keep the springtime light

from streaming in. I close the thick

curtains like eyelids. The wind blows

and carries with it uncertainty.

The mockingbirds chirp a war song

to the grackles, warning them

to stay away from their precious nests,

Their stockpiles of bugs. Inside,

I smooth the sheet on the bed

With my hand, tuck it in the corners

And feel the softness against my palm,

Quell each wrinkle with diligence.

Outside, on the lawn, an uprising

Of weeds that need tending

Wave their blossoms in the air

In protest of something

I can’t quite understand.

Last, I spread the blanket,

Soft and warm and perfect,

A cocoon of Eden I’ll wrap myself in

And lose myself in

Until all of this is over,

And the musky scent of snakes

Blows over with the virus.