Gratitude

Gratitude abounds

In isolated silence

Saving for later. 

I read but do not

express my dreadful worries

Backburnering hope.

Broken bones, torn tendons

Of course it hurts, nothing works

Must start again now. 

Rattled to the core

This is when we can change all

Shiva's fire cleaning. 

If I do not get up for work, Zeppo presses into my hip in the morning. When I stir enough to lay a hand down and rub his belly, he purrs loudly, Eleanor walks up me and settles on my chest. The other arm must come out to lay on her as she kneads and purrs. A recent ritual, a few weeks in the making. Zeppo past so much of his fear, there is further to go, but he is driven by his desire for love and capacity for love. Eleanor takes her own place and is content. 

We will, of course, stay away from those we love, out of love. To do otherwise would be selfish in the extreme. Thankfully, all our friends feel the same, and we so far have successfully repelled the virus.  Even Dylan's parents are still well. And we had to stop and remember how grateful we are that none of those we love have been sucked down the false rabbit holes of the day.