Allusions and a Lockdown Mantra

Keep listening to the birds, and the crickets,

watching for star reflections in buckets,

though the present is a box full of darkness

remember it’s still a gift and nothing less.

The sky never had a limit, and the ground

is hallowed everywhere, even torn and browned,

even when it's sullied with a pandemic

of deceit and a tsunami of plastic.

When it’s ruthlessly mauled by a cyclone;

the warming of seas, the holes in the ozone.

Lay your skin close to the asphalt and concrete

and under them feel the seasonal heartbeat.

Thirteen ways are good, but you don’t always need

thirteen, one is enough, the rest is just greed.