Every time we wash our hands

Every time we wash our hands
pussy willows

There is  a new kind of March Madness. These are pandemic and uncertain times.  We are washing our hands obsessively now, and I’m trying not to touch my face. The subways have never been so clean.

But amid empty stadiums, school closings, events cancelled or postponed, the madness of toilet paper hoarding, and no peanut butter or hand sanitizer on store shelves,  there are also undeniable signs of  spring.

After the time shift, there is more light in the evenings, now.  What a  delight to have light at  7 p.m.

While there may not be huge crowds at Stonehenge this year, the vernal equinox is  only days away–on March 19.

And even if the parks in Tokyo and Kyoto are not filled with people gathering to admire them, the cherry blossoms are blooming again.

Crocuses are coming up  in Chicago. And the pussy willows are opening in the sun.

Remember,  we are in this together.    Follow the CDC guidelines about  resilience. Remember to wash your hands. I offer you this poem  by Dori Midnight to wash your hands by, and welcome spring!

To care for one another
To pray over water
To wash the fear away
Every time we wash our hands

—-Dori Midnight

 

Filed under: poetry, seasons, weather

Comments

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  • Thank you. I think I'll post this over the sink.

  • Thank you so much for reading. I'm so glad you find it helpful. I found a longer one I will send to you, too.
    Take care, much love

  • In reply to Weather Girl:

    You're welcome. I'll look forward to the longer one. You take care, too!

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