Aware of the games the mind plays
coming out of quarantine.
The “Yes, I feel a lot better. The sun is out.
I should go for a walk.”

And then “Yes, but it’s not absolutely necessary
that I do that. Staying inside, given that I am still
testing positive, would be a service to others.”

And reflecting that this last is also in support
of a life-long agoraphobic tendency.
And the acknowledgment that one has been honest
in admitting that to oneself.

And the rehearsal of sharing—if ever speaking
to another—that insight as well.

And the release, like an unclenched fist, of the whole
**** affair. Stepping back, like a spectator at a chess match
or a game of blackjack, letting the sides focus on each other
while knowing the decision will be made either way
by the end of the day.

And allowing all of it. Resting with presence rather than
being reborn in each decision to do or not do,
to move or not move, this thing chosen or not… or that thing.

All of it establishing a land claim on shifting sand
or a particularly pleasing cloud formation.