Everything was normal, the public transportation system, retail, food service, education, commerce, all at status quo (perhaps someone, somewhere knew). Then a rumor on the news, and suddenly, without a whole lot of warning… The sun rose and was warm, the birds hopped around and sang, the grass was green and grew longer. Now the schools stand empty, the play yards quiet, the bell unrung (Well, the bells ring anyway because they’re electric and on a timer). Panicked shoppers crowd the stores and empty their shelves and paychecks, all restaurants, delis and other food service places are clearly distinguishable by the large bright pink signs that hang above their doors reading in big white letters ​CARRY OUT & CURBSIDE!” ​or “​GRAB & GO!” ​Suddenly, parishioners have their ears assaulted by the bells of censors coming over bad sound systems and glitchy screens. When walking anywhere people hold aloof, as if you are the secretive host to a much feared sickness. How fickle is mankind!? One instant, you don’t exist and the next you’re practically a lord for whom every being must make way.

When running at a park with my older brother, having just completed the ceremonial last couple hundred-yard sprint to the end of the trail, my brother coughed once or twice, being, as I was, slightly winded. Instantly, a middle-aged woman who was fast approaching (practising the ancient art of speed walking), checked, her countenance became overshadowed by an expression of caution and nervous apprehension. “I hear coughing!” she proclaimed from afar, there was an air of hesitation in her voice. Once she learned that we had just been running she seemed to relax and then went on her merry way.

Despite all this fear, angst and overdone caution (and lack of T.P.), the sun is still rising and will always continue to rise; no work of man can stop it. The grass still grows green, and the birds still sing. The bluebells are still coming out, and the robins and cardinals are still flitting around, piping their little hearts out.

The most lovely thing to mine eyes at this time of year: a green haze. Very light, like a delicate mist, ever spreading and deepening, covering the barren trees and bushes and obscuring the site of houses and other buildings, distorting and taking away some of the feeling of closeness that is accentuated during the winter, from the lack of foliage.

Parents freak, the outlook’s bleak, what can their children do?

They can not go to summer camp for now’s the time for flu.

Come, forget your social skills and do your school at home.

Cabin fever’ll soon set in, you’ll learn to play the comb.

And when these times of sickness pass, I’ll cut a joyous caper,

Then race the wind through new-grown grass to find some toilet paper.