Fat across three ribs of a bright green leaf,
A dewdrop rolled onto my tongue beneath,
Served cold and fresh direct from nature's dish,
Filtered through limestone and the gills of fish,

This immortal moisture once ran like oil,
Down an ancestors back doubled in toil,
Laden with memory mossed on their tomb,
It nourished their children warm in the womb,

Through fauna and flora time and again,
Their essence combined recycled as rain,
A powerful force that dribbles and slings,
Dictating life to perishable things,

With a solution of all it has known,
Returned to the sea through everyone's home.

Before I could move I laid very still,
Drawing breath seconds settling as snowfall,
Alone except for a cast iron will,
Waiting for the moment that I could crawl,

Somewhere I might drag myself to my feet,
To stand firm sheltered beneath drifted time,
Defying both gravity and defeat,
Just me and this cast iron will of mine,

Before I chose to be still I could move,
I roamed where I wished tasted love sublime,
Gone now is the one who would heal and soothe,
Returned to source like snowflakes, tears of brine,

Before I could move I had to be still,
Remember my strength my cast iron will.

Socially distanced he whispered,

"it says covid on the death certificate,

but I'm not a sap,

it was the clap".