Stocks Surge on Signs Pandemic May Be Slowing

Meanwhile, I’m dealing with folding a towel,
Simple task on a sunny spring morning,
Just as I catch my thoughts racing

With news and speculation about the news,
And the bets of speculators on the news,
And the pundits’ predictions on the news,

And the news isn’t really so new, is it?
Numbers again, numbers and bloviation,
The contemporary human that has been

Like this, albeit less plugged in, since
Heaven knows when. And humans dying.
And meanwhile, I’m folding a towel,

Simple task on a sunny spring morning,
And mourning doves are cooing outside,
And a warbler is full-throated warbling

On a tree branch by the bathroom window
To be heard over the distant rumble
Of highway trucks, much reduced

This particular week, so maybe the warbler
Is in luck. And now I catch myself listening
And arranging my own phrases in my head,

Holding a half-folded towel, otherwise
Doing nothing much but breathing
In a world that does seem to be floating,

Me bobbing along inside it, hardly noticing,
Mind made of rank nonsense and birdsong,
Doing chores on a sunny spring morning.