Be safe. Stay home. Together six feet apart, a week, might be months, could be a year. Are you ok? Do you need anything? Just checking. It’s so quiet here. I hear a familiar bird song, but I don’t know who is singing.

Did you hear? They killed her. Killed him. 9 mins 26 secs. Protestors beaten. Shoved into black vans. 500,000 and rising. Neighbors singing from balconies. The lies go on. A country turning against itself. Mailboxes removed. The west is on fire. They don’t care. Ruth died.

It’s an orioles nest, a stunning weave of grass and tinsel. Go outside. Work hard. Keep the paths clear. Dig holes. Plant trees. The moon is full. Did you see it? Call me. I’ll call you back. Be still. Go nowhere.

Rough waters. Small boat. Fragile lives. Very strong souls. Hold on if you can. Let go if you need to. Look up to the sky. Seasons in slow motion. It’s so quiet here. The fleck of orange is gone. The noisiest year of silence.