Poem: Over the Bridge

Spring begins in 3 days
History churns out corona craze
My shadow reminds me of my mirror gaze
Waiting and wondering about the next phase

Kind souls helping out amid unpredictable times
News outlets publishing hourly updates online
My face appreciates March sunshine
Still alive at 12:55, typing unspeakable rhymes

A tree falls on the forest floor
I wear plastic gloves just to open our building’s door
Waterfalls descending from snow peaks to sea shore
My inner being revels in the now moments when who knows what’s in store

The air is permeated by hiker perfume
When couples kiss, tell ’em to get a room
Sweeping out sorrow with a broom
False starts so far this year swept into the tomb

Everyone’s sexy when they’re young
Cows lay farmers’ fields with stinky dung
Glad to be here and now having fun
Disease and dis-ease can make us come undone

Over the bridge but not yet over the hill
Freed from the pain inflicted by online shrills
The calendar turns a mile a minute until
The wall’s writing becomes prophecy fulfilled

~ Gunnar Våken