Confinement

part of the National Poetry Month 2020 series

The dogs still bark like they always did
and romp and run outside and back in
The birds still sing, maybe more, even,
than they did before, or maybe we're hearing
them now finally that we're pulled outside
of ourselves, even while we're hunkered,
bunkered in our houses, a silent bombing
carrying on outside. England during wartime.