Coronavirus, Near Charleston, March 2020

Big beachfront houses, solid, 

cementitious, dug into the earth,

await the next big wind and water.

 

But now empty. Even the rich

cannot get onto this sea island.

Beachgoers turned quickly away.

 

Two old renters of an old house

shuffle down the vacant strand

alone with the surf and their dogs. 

 

Black Skimmers, Sanderlings, Laughing Gulls—

they’re still here and tempt the mind to 

imagine a natural world safe from people.

 

But I am thinking now mainly of people, 

and I am beginning to cry,

struggling with what is going on.

 

The great world wails,

the suffering is just starting.

What must we learn? What must we do?

 

Houses thought to be impregnable against climate,

a country too great to be brought low by a virus—

two artifacts of arrogance.

 

So many vacant spaces. Still,

our worlds are full with memories.

We will remember each other.

Gus Speth