I did not think pregnantly
during my pause.
When a week’s passage
finally hit me,
I transposed the letters in baby
into all possible combinations
on the hypothesis one would raise
the shadow-cloaked mountain
skyward into the sunshine
so the tide might be spied
on the ocean’s gulf coast
where beaches stand void of people
afraid of virus contraction,
knowing intubation
stifles a patient’s
fearful moans.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 