By Morgan Brown-McNeil
Trains on tracks,
Moving through dirt,
Rain making mud.
We once walked freely,
But now it's almost as if someone's put a damper on the Earth.
Oxygen seems scarce.
Shutters close over Windows,
Restaurants and other humanly objects criticized for trying to survive.
We line up six feet apart,
Afraid of a bug.
We wonder what cleaner the gas station uses a few miles down 91.
We search for the good in life on a screen,
Pixels guiding us through time.
Our dreams are filled with little Boxes,
All separately titled,
Covered in paper.
Smoke rising from lips scares us all more than sharks,
Seeing how far visible air from lips goes.
We run from our shadows,
Hoping they stay six feet away.
We gasp at the movies that have taken over our reality.
Wondering how so many people could be so stupid as to go without masks,
All an elbows length from one another.
Morgan Brown-McNeil has gone to Woven Word for three years. She's passionate about climate justice and loves spending time, barefoot, in nature. She loves to read and play music and she is very interested in outer space.