UMLÄUT 2020 - THE PANDEMIC ISSUE
WORKERS
Eva Whitney
It is Spring. There is no day,
no month, just Spring.
Three mosquito eaters
collect in the cool hallway.
They don’t hurry to leave,
fanning their thread-legs out
and watching.
Workers that pace themselves
for the long haul.
I sat idle too, waiting for the cherry tree to bloom.
And the rock rose, and the trumpet vine,
and for the neighbor to have their baby boy.
I wondered if the work could still be done
without a worker.
Sitting idle, I could see
workers of another sort.
The flowers came and went,
my grandmother too,
and days passed,
among them, my birthday.