A dark body of clouds enters my brain.
It is a line from a poem.
It is a covid fog slowing my thoughts.
It is not I who caught covid, but Cathryn.
Being my friend, I share her burden.
This dark body of clouds.
Happily it does not cause dark thoughts.
The fog causes people to think she is a ditz.
In this shared existence I am thought a ditz as well.
The darkness is how cruel people can be
when their expectations go unmet.
Thunder voices hurl insults at our covid slowness.
We could hurl insults back at their ignorance.
We could hurl stick or stones.
In tandem we remain silent.
If we could find ninety-eight more people
to share Cathryn’s burden
each of us would carry one-percent fog.
Thus disperse the dark body of clouds
back into a line of poetry.
Oh darn. I cannot think of the poet’s name.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
The poet whose name I covid-fog do not remember in the last line of the poem is Mary Ruefle. The title is a variation from her poem title “Darke Body of Clowds”. It is found in her book “Indeed I Was Please With The World“.
I do hope you (dear readers) have gotten your covid-19 vaccinations. Cathryn is one friend who has long haul covid difficulties. Over the past 15 months several acquaintances passed away from the attack of the virus upon their bodies. So I hope you take the virus seriously.