Coronavirus Poem #9

I never knew about the man who walks his dog down Cedar Avenue every morning at 8:15 am
Nor would I have begun to notice him if not for the bounce in his step
A little too joyous for the current moment
Coffee mug in hand and his face upturned, scanning the sky as if inspecting God
I wonder if he does this under normal circumstances
Or if (like me) he is usually at a desk or counter by 8:15 am, nowhere near the sky
I admire his devotion to a schedule, it is what the experts recommend in a quarantine
Maintain a routine, exercise, go to bed at a decent hour, the articles say
I can tell you right now, the man is nailing two of three
And I do not know him but I would venture that he is getting adequate rest
His face soft and whole like a peach
I doubt he is accidentally staying up until 6 am on Twitter, confessing,
If not for the dog, I would never leave my apartment
Thank God for the dogs of America, forcing fresh air into our crusted lungs
All of us pacing around the house for months, folding and refolding the same worn quilt
Waiting for 3 pm when sunlight streams through the south window and we can go sit in it
Birds appearing on the sill like coworkers stopping by our cubicle
to say, Hello, how was the weekend, nice weather we’re having, strange times