The Valleys of the Andes

I can see down into all the valleys
From my perch on the edge of the mountains
High within the clouds up in the Andes.
Like ants, the people practice their routines,
Going about in their typical ways,
Not even aware of my eyes above,
Watching them as they bundle through their days.
Have they been able to find what they love?
Are they stuck in their eternal circle,
Living each day like they have lived before?
Do they even know that their life is dull,
Not seeking out something with more allure?
Does my position give me perspective
That is different from the way they live?

Flexibility

We used to be so sure what would happen
The next hour, tomorrow, or the next day,
But now the routine that has always been
May not always come as it always may.
I’ve learned from the events of the recent past
That I need to keep a flexible mind,
For reliability will not last;
I’ll have to forge a new path through the grind.
I’ll focus on happiness as my goal,
Making the most of the situation.
I won’t be able to plug ev’ry hole,
And will need to lower expectations.
We will make it through the epidemic
To return to the days of the picnic.