‘Quarantined’ by Gregory Ross

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Quarantined

Against the wind, our candles out,
The smoke will rise, we have no doubt,
Yet in the dark with all our kin,
We’ll strike a match and crack a grin,
And once alight, our joy will sprout.

All those outside, alone, will pout,
“You’ll spread disease,” they’ll scream and shout,
And judge as if we sit in sin,
__Against the wind.

Made lepers who they’ll scorn and flout,
They know what all our fun’s about,
So, while it is to their chagrin,
They suck in deep, cold air within.
We’ve made our hearth and friendship stout,
__Against the wind.

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Gregory Ross is an emerging poet and a pilot who lives in Stafford, Virginia.