unpolluted world, plunging into rich pasturage,
pulsating with stalks – fresh and golden
and become one with the birds
fidgeting on the boughs,
chirping up a storm?
When?
There is a couple quarantined in the same house,
different rooms.
A pall of gloom descends,
as one of the two suddenly stops breathing,
her eyes fixed on the rays of the setting sun.
Her last sunset.
The other recovers fully, rousing himself from his stupor,
calling out to his spouse, who is no longer around;
not a mouse stirs in the house.
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