6 a.m. Feeding
By Janet Sobczyk, 2020
By Janet Sobczyk, 2020
Pale pink sky
low clouds
rustle of wings
sharp eyes spy seeds
sharp beak defends
squabbles rebuff
push off
flutter back
crowd ‘round
until…
only shells left.
low clouds
rustle of wings
sharp eyes spy seeds
sharp beak defends
squabbles rebuff
push off
flutter back
crowd ‘round
until…
only shells left.
Back to School After Covid
By Janet Sobczyk, 2020
It took courage
to step in those doors on August 10th
the doors we last walked through on March 16th
stunned, struggling to understand
all our plans evaporated
in the wake of a mystery illness
striking randomly
like an enemy submarine taking out our country’s fleet
stealthily, swiftly, inciting mass fear.
One survivor said on the phone
“My family got Covid,
I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to teach again.”
Another teacher texted,
“I quit after getting Covid,
I’m praying for you as you return to school.”
Grateful for her prayers
I think, with hope, “they survived!”
against the odds, both were most vulnerable.
And so did the woman
I feared wouldn’t make it
the first documented case in Nebraska
played basketball at Special Olympics
against my daughter’s team
so friendly, talking smack, smiling
we ate lunch with her
only God knew she’d soon be
in critical care for weeks.
She was vulnerable
so is my daughter
and my spouse, and me, scared
wanting to stay home in a safe bubble
venturing out for weekly supplies
content to work remotely,
study online, video chat
walk the dog, do yard work
as sunshine beckons.
Now summer recedes, duty calls
ignore the statistics and news
gather strength for a new journey
re-enter a school familiar
but profoundly changed
interact with people in person again
anxiety’s high
but there’s comfort, too
a team working for a good cause.
August 17th, it’s showtime!
the stage is set, protocols in place
to welcome brave students
with bright eyes and masked smiles
wanting to hug, holding back
they line up at arms’ length
thrilled to see friends again
but nervous knowing the danger
one pukes and goes home.
The day is filled with teaching
routines, new rules, not much math
sanitizing, washing hands
taking temps three times a day
sanitizing, washing hands
the students tire, barely speak
teachers talk all day behind masks
feel claustrophobic, dehydrated
everyone goes home exhausted.
The week flies by
students stagger in, not used to early rising
one quarantined Zooms
his face on iPad carried from class to class
strange, but our new normal
Wednesday feels like it should be the weekend
we keep calm, carry on
by Friday we all heave a sigh of relief
we made it through the first week!
Click here to see the September issue of Your Country Neighbor.
