A pandemic spreads across the globe.
At first, I stay in the city.
A child is born.
I have better technology in the city.
It was a difficult birth.
I can watch the latest news on cable television.
It took many hours of labor and a caesarian at 3:30 AM.
I learn to Zoom with various poetry groups on my computer.
Luckily, the mother and child survive.
I see parents with their children, who are not in school, in the park outside my windows.
The extended family of the new baby is grateful.
I am in New York City, which is the epicenter of the pandemic.
The next day, mother and child rest after the long birth.
I want to leave the city for Easter, but the crisis is escalating at an alarming rate.
Then there are many photos of the baby on the computer.
I am not very good at wearing masks.
The baby looks calm and content.
Every day, I see more ambulances parked and waiting behind my building.
The baby sleeps a lot.
Each time I go shopping for groceries, I feel guiltier.
The baby appears swaddled and dressed in many different outfits.
I am afraid that one of the shopkeepers will get sick.
The baby’s father looks happy.
Finally, I decide to leave and check on my house in the country.
The baby is a boy.
With the stay-at-home orders, where will I get gas and have lunch on the road?
The father has a son.
At the border of Rhode Island, I have to tell a soldier where I am going.
The mother has a child.
He seems relieved that I am going to Massachusetts.
The three of them leave the hospital.
I am relieved when I arrive at my house in the woods.
The family is back in their home.
I didn’t realize how stressful it was in the city.
There are many daffodils in bloom.