the limbo of pandemic

My poem The Mind Waiting (it was written some time ago) I think (inadvertently) describes the limbo of these strange days:

and only a jolt from outside,
from the world of touch,
reveals that something is different,

except that there’s nothing outside,
all the tracks lead back to the self
and simplification,

a murmuration of starlings
plunging this way and that towards home
until gathered by dusk

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