Homebound. Locked down. Newfound.

Lucky to be freelancing in a business that’s shedding jobs faster than Trump sheds his rage in tweets, I am safely ensconced and writing from a desk in my spare-bedroom office. Behind me, an open window overlooks a wildlife preserve the city owns. It’s home to deer, squirrels, raccoons, hawks, songbirds, possum, rabbits, the occasional fox, mice and moles, coyotes I never see, and my own soul. It’s a place to wander without a mask or social distancing rules and where hope and nature spring eternal.