covid -19 duty

A little drizzle is falling on the roof of our hut,

As silent as a cat, prowling for a cat.

It is dead of night and the silence is surreal,

An owl perched atop the lamppost is eerie.

Occasionally making flight to catch those helpless moth,

Gathering around the light from the lamppost.

The drizzle has put out the fire that I have lighted,

The last ember from the burnt bamboo is dead too.

Any attempt to rekindle the fire would be futile

Making it more opportunistic for the snakes, rodents

or elephants in case if they desire to make a rampage.

Anyway that's just my imagination running wild,

This might happen or might not .

There is a bigger fear that we stay awake for,

Unprecedented help that the nation calls for.

To fortify against the entry of covid- 19 that is lurking around,

it must be contained like a fire when it is small.

A beam of torch lights flickers from the other outpost,

I do the same to notify them that we are wake.

So far so good and no sign of any unauthorized trespassing,

but we keep our vigil high on an alert.

This life at the outpost is an analogy ,

to the farmers guarding their crops through the night.

Sacrifices of sleep and comforts,

all to put a food on the table.