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(March 26, 2020, the day the US takes the lead in Coronavirus cases)
Can they tell we are different, the deer?
Can they smell it on us, the fear,
trepidation in the way we walk,
.
Sometimes in winter’s cold bleak,
we watch them from a window.
The old, the strong, the young, the weak.
Now, they look at us. What do they know?
Copyright 2020 Robert Wrigley
What a perfect poem — quiet and perfect.
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Thanks, Laure-Anne!
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A poem that gets to the heart of the our current struggle, which creatures really do understand their world and make their life meaningful? Thanks for question.
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God bless us all !
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Thanks, Chandra!
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