Masked

I’m getting accustomed to the whole Covid thing.

But from time to time, I see a familiar place turned apocalyptic, with the masks and the distancing and such.

That sends a chill up my body, like the time I was a kid and I realized for the first time I too would die one day.

But then I banish the feeling because it’s too terrifying to dwell on.

What instead if I gently embrace it?

What if I can hang out in the space where the acknowledgement of that chill makes my love of the world that much sweeter?

What if masks and viruses and death are accessories to my love of that little green frog in the moss right here in front of me?