Quarantine

The window was opened for the cat to perch 

to get a sense of the young spring air; suddenly, 

flurries interrupted hope of a southern breath 

as they blew through to the warmer room like

phantom flakes - shimmery and iradescent

in all of their hundred hurries through the screen 

dissolving on sight leaving no trace of existence.

The room that had once sparkled grew dreary and dull;

the cat jumped off the window ledge and withdrew,

her tail up and march away indicative of what the delight’s

disappearance had meant for she and I who looked for 

respite from the quarantine that had caught us up inside:

hers as a feline drawn to March’s sudden bird song,

me, the threat of a bacteria let loose in my lungs.

I didn’t exit the room as quickly as the cat for hope

that a few errant snowflakes would still cross over

even though the outside cold burned through my throat

and I burrowed under a blanket to tame the chills.