All fell silent

we’ll say years from now

but it won’t be true

for the buzzing

in the stiffening blossoms

doesn’t cease

nor the rustling of

leaves, nor the creaking

of branches in the night

Stinkbugs and ladybirds

whir, crossing boundaries

between households

pigeons approach, impervious

to the axioms of

social distancing

and the nightingale’s voice sparkles

in the dark, a needle

stitching together

neighbors separated by borders & walls

into a breathing plexus, a secret

pulsating chorus