It’s Monday morning. Time to go to work!
And as the birds brightly warble outside,
Your computer’s fans cough out dusty air.
(You worry, daily, about the thing’s health.)
You’ll still be handling all your tasks online
For at least another month, says the news.
At least. At least! First thing, you check the news.
You know everyone else reads it at work,
And it’s relevant. Quick, right there, online.
Although small groups can now gather outside,
Improvements are slow to the nation’s health.
You resign yourself. A deep breath of air,
And it’s Monday air, Monday morning air,
But worse. It’s stuffy and tastes of bad news.
Not terrible news - you still have your health -
Just the understanding of how much work
Yet remains before you’ll feel safe outside.
Until then, your job. Still right here. Online.
Some things, you admit, are better online;
Some aren’t. Do you miss frosty morning air
Starting your commute once you step outside?
At this point, maybe. You keep reading news
And slowly, sleepily, slide into work,
A feeling of fatigue haunting your health.
Not your body. The other kind of health,
The one sapped by each hour spent online.
How easy it is, if your normal work
Stays this quiet, this reactive, to air
Your apprehension by reading more news.
Nothing is even happening outside.
But it will. You take your thoughts of outside,
Wrap them, and shelve them. They don’t help your health
If you clutch them too tight. You close the news,
Remind yourself why you’re even online,
And, breathing in that stuffy Monday air,
Somehow convince yourself to get to work.
The free birds outside peer in at your work.
Unworried by health, or incoming news,
Or even the word ‘online’. Only the air.