Susan Vidd

In the year of 2020
When life was full and plenty,
A terrible plague besieged the world
Chaos and sorrow worldwide unfurled.

In isolation and fear we dwelt
Uncertainty and confusion was what we felt;
Masking our own fears from our little ones
Masquerading the pain from our daughters and sons.

Our innocent youth confused, unaware
Of the isolation they are now forced to bear.
We are afforded the freedom to walk the street
But not close to our neighbors perchance we meet.

To retain some normalcy there came a plan
Place teddy bears in the window for children to scan.
It would help as the young ones would take a walk
To look for a teddy bear on every block.

"Look mommy, there's a pink teddy bear
And a gray one at that house with long fuzzy hair!"
And so it went on as a method to cope,
Living each day with a prayer and hope.

Now four years later 2024
Situation better but not quite like before;
My own teddy bear remains on my sill
And will be there forever or maybe until...

We remember how fragile life can be
Not take things for granted, Teddy and me!

Riding down Interstate 80
In the fall of 1971
Headed for a new life
Our marriage just begun.

Natives of Ohio;
A midland temperate state,
Iowa not all that far
And August is the date.

With limited experience
We followed down the path,
700 miles to be exact
with calculated math.

The hills had slowly diminished
Now the landscape nearly flat
No air conditioning, windows open,
I hung onto my hat!

"What is that?" we see ahead
Rows and rows of corn;
Not like that of Ohio's crops
But of a species almost foreign.

It was the largest corn ever seen.
We actually had no knowledge.
They did not teach horticulture
In the many years of college.

Eyes grow wide continuing on
I feel the sweat form beads
For among the stealthy giant corn
There also grows the weeds.

Mammoth ragweed much like the corn
Huge and swaying giants;
The winds carrying it across the plains
With little to no defiance.

There is just one bit of concern
We wish we had been aware.
Small plants of ragweed make us sick
But those behemoths - Beware!

When moving on to new adventures
A little research would be wise.
Why am I sneezing, coughing, itching
With dark circles beneath my eyes?

Hay fever, hay fever, hay fever!
The orange pollen moves through the sky.
My body attacks the common weed
believing it is awry.

The irony is a certain beauty
Even flowers are big and bold.
They are so very large, in fact,
They are a miracle to behold.

Under a dock over the sea
Nestled between a lake of debris,
The young swallow spreads out its coat
In desperation to stay afloat.

With concern I am asked to intercede;
To paddle my small craft among the reed
To attempt to reach the struggling bird.
I observe intently but utter no word.

Any attempt might be perilous;
To risk my craft simply careless.
I fear my attempts would be futile.
I weigh my options and wait a while.

I continued on my impromptu way
My plans to simply enjoy the day.
But I was blinded and could only see
The young swallow struggling not far from me.

Two hours had passed and I returned.
A small crowd had gathered and I quickly learned,
The little creature still afloat
But less active now as I untied my boat.

"Such a brave little bird"
Among the crowd was the word.
I believe I will give it a go
Into my boat, centering myself, crouching lower than low;

I was able to drift beneath the dock
Could get no closer blocked by a rock
About to give up before I hit sand
With drenched wings and determination he swam to my hand.

Under different circumstances he would move away
But the little swallow knew that I lay ---
Lay my hand down for him to retreat
To cheat death at that moment; the odds to be beat.

He was cold and tired in a weakened state;
Too vulnerable to be left there at any rate.
I swaddled him in my sweater's warm pocket
Close to my heart and my golden locket.

Together we traveled across the bay
Trying to capture the warmth of the ray.
Five miles we journeyed to the distant shore
Where my meager cottage could offer him more.

I placed him in a makeshift cage
While I searched for some food for him to engage.
Welcomed rest, warmth, security, food,
Was all that he needed to lighten his mood.

I picked him up and we looked eye to eye
"It's so nice to meet you my brave little guy."
Within two hours he seemed to recover;
From my hands he flew not bothering to hover.

I will never forget how he struggled to reach me;
An unnatural act of instinct to teach me
When events are dire and one holds out a hand,
Creature to creature we are all of one band.

It was merely happenstance
As I walked about my home
To note the movement in the grass
Of a creature with a dome.

Cautiously I moved forward
Steady was my pace.
It was hard to see just what it was,
The turf had masked its base.

To my surprise it was a turtle;
Indigenous to Ohio.
Identification revealed colorful markings
According to its bio.

It is known as the painted turtle
And it was headed for the street.
Turn around my little friend,
Move those little feet.

It was determined as ever
to continue on its quest.
But I knew its direction
Should be south and not northwest.

It moved closer to the road
Where cars were speeding by.
I could not let it continue
There was a good chance it would die.

I picked up the painted turtle
Who had traveled, oh, so far,
The lake from whence it came is south,
Not north beneath a car.

I placed it on brown pebbles
At the baseline of our lake
Convinced it now would settle;
A good deed for its own sake.

It was never its intention
To rest upon that shore.
No sooner had I turned around,
It was on the move once more.

Frustrated I stop and take a glance
To see my neighbor smirking.
He approached me with a smile and said
"What you did is just not working."

He told me of her history
"I know she will not rest.
She is compelled to keep on moving -
Two years my yard reserved her nest."

Well, I will carry her across the street
To the soft grasses of that nest,
Then it must be out of my hands
As nature's plan is best.

But, I just can't seem to let it go.
I look for her each day.
She will return to my lake
In early June or May.

Turtles are smarter than you think.
She boasts a colorful mark.
It is quite possible she will cross the street
And make it safely to my park.

There is an instinct within us all.
It seems to be very strong.
By helping her to cross that street,
I pray I was not wrong.