I think I will miss the sun today.
The pang of regret as light breaks from the clouds
for the first time since the gray morning
is familiar, but
realizing I won’t get out before it goes again
has new dimension in the current days.

We are thinking of shortages and need.
Scarcity looms large this year. We learn new acronyms
and everyone becomes a statistician.
Last year this time the curves
on my mind were those of thickening buds and the swell
of grass over the earth.

I think of them now too, but

this year, of course.

Regrets stand out, and fears:
Did we do right with those last few unworried days?
Who could I have hugged when I travelled instead?
I still don’t understand the logarithmic graphs.
I could probably help more; worry less.


And the deaths, obviously. And the suffering.

Famously, April has a shortage of sun.

Still frustrating, of course, but comforting now, too.
This has not changed; always more rain than I’d like,
but at least it’s easier to stay indoors when outside spits
and squalls at you.

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