Strange Times

You're familiar with them all from long

acquaintance, those with a penchant for

enjoying nature regularly tramping through

woodland trails, a touchstone habit recognizing

the value of our natural surroundings, the

urban forest adjacent a metropolis. But these

are not the regulars, their unfamiliar faces

register gloom, they keep their eyes averted

as though should eyes meet the dread virus

could leap the distance to settle into their own

eyes when what they sought was a respite from

seclusion in their homes not an encounter with

the dread new coronavirus. Lives have been

impacted with the necessity of isolation while

other lives have been deleted from the registry

of humanity's population base. They are buried

in isolation. While those distancing themselves

from others may no longer seek solace given

them by now-shuttered shopping venues much

less exercise gyms, or public parks nor visit

local restaurants or enjoy a night out with friends.

Instead they must find comfort where they can

seeking fresh air and exercise. Their glum

misery palpable as they stride through muck-

soaked early spring forest trails during a local

forest's most unattractive season, no vegetation

yet emerging from the forest floor, deciduous 

trees unleafed, a colour-monotonous landscape

only a nature-lover could appreciate knowing

what comes next. So the grim wanderers avert

eyes, close ears to cheerful civil greetings and

slog on, undistracted from their bleak vision. Pity.