It is 4:00 AM.
Not quite,
more like 4:02,
or 4:05.
But it doesn’t
matter really,
like how the virus
will one day leave
and we will still
wash our hands
every time we
get home from
the store.
I am sitting in bed
reading a book I
love, a story that
leaves me at peace
every time I read it.
It’s calming,
in a strange way,
even though there
is a conflict,
like how the sky
can still be that
beautiful electric
indigo of 4:00 AM,
or 4:02,
and in the back
of my mind
I know that
people are still dying.