Somewhere along this path of self-seclusion,
this summer of seeing so few people,
isolated from friends and family,
not quite hidden away,
my tooth began to fester.
Angry, I suppose,
at things I couldn’t change.
Decay and rot went deep inside my bones,
sickened by the nightly news
that I ignored.
I searched for doorways of diversion
waiting for the surgeon to call,
popping pills, staying hydrated
indoors, amusing myself,
looking out the window at
chickadees and bush tits
chowing down seed,
squirrels swinging on the tray,
hydrangeas wilting in the sun.